Tatiana: Sorry, running late. Long story.
I know her well enough to guess that Christopher is probably involved—he’s the kind of guy who stirs up trouble or dismisses plans, and Tatiana never lets that slide. I want to tell her to cut him loose, but that’s not my place as a friend.
Me: I’ll be waiting. :)
I add a smiley face to keep things upbeat, even though what I really want to say is how much I’m looking forward to seeing them. The eerie feeling I had on the way here, like someone was following me, is something I’d never admit. I don’t want Tatiana to think I’m paranoid.
For now, I’m surrounded by people in the club, so I should be safe. The attention I’m getting is just because I’m alone, and I can handle that.
Breathe in, breathe out. You’re just being paranoid.
The bar is quiet at the moment. A few people are scattered at the bar and at tables around the dance floor, while the balcony above is mostly empty. I came early to avoid the noise and catch up with Tatiana before she heads off to France in two days.
At this rate, she might not make it, and I won’t see her again for a month. I frown as I stare into my glass of wine, waiting.
“What’s with the long face?”
The question pulls me from my troubled thoughts. It’s not some lurking stalker trying to chat me up, but the bartender instead. He’s cute in a familiar way, with deep-set dark eyes and a winning smile that highlights his dimples.
“My best friend’s heading to the south of France for a month, and I don’t know how I’ll manage without her.” I shrug, noticing his wince. “I get that it could be worse, but…”
“It’s a bummer, for sure,” he agrees, arranging glasses in an impressive stack.
“Yeah, it really is. I’m going to have all this free time and nothing to fill it.”
Luciano, like always, is busy and can’t join us tonight. That’s unlikely to change with Tatiana’s absence. It often feels like I live alone, but the dirty laundry he leaves scattered around is a constant reminder of his presence.
The bartender leans on the bar, his brows lifting. My gaze is drawn to his biceps, nicely showcased by the tight sleeves of his T-shirt. “If you’re bored, we’re always looking for extra help around here.”
“Oh, really?” I reply, intrigued.
“Yes, I could use an extra pair of hands. You’d be a great fit,” he says with a flirtatious grin and a wink.
I can’t help the warm flush that spreads through me, even though I’m not single and shouldn’t be encouraging flirting with someone I’ve just met. I wonder if his arms are drawing my attention because I’ve been feeling neglected and lonely lately.
“I’d need to check with my boyfriend first,” I murmur, and his nod shows he’s got the message before he moves on to serve a new customer a few stools down.
Tatiana would probably smack me on the head if she were here and saw me turning down a cute guy. She doesn’t understand what it’s like to be with someone for so long, investing so much time and energy into a relationship. I don’t want to think that all that time was for nothing. Relationships require patience, effort, and work from both sides.
Who am I trying to convince?
A deep sense of dissatisfaction washes over me, and I down the rest of my wine. I hope this isn’t what my future looks like—me convincing myself I’m secure and should settle for what I know rather than seeking something more. But what would that be? Leaving Luciano? Quitting my job before I even start? There don’t seem to be any viable alternatives.
I’ve never been one to take risks. I want to be. I wish I could be. But it’s just not in my nature. Besides, I’ve been taught all my life how uncertain the world is, how things can change in an instant, and the importance of being prepared for whatever comes next. Thanks, Dad.
It isn’t irritation with him that simmers low in my belly—he’s done his best, especially after Mom died. No, it’s irritation with myself. What am I really afraid of? It’s not until I realize my jaw is clenched that I notice my heart speeding up at the memory of the other night.