Sex & Sours

by Dani McLean

  I’d thought hearing that would hurt. And perhaps it would have months ago. Now? Nothing.

  “No, it’s not.” And it was the truth. No matter how much I wished that things had gone differently, I didn’t want her to be miserable. “I’m sorry for how things ended with us. For not telling you sooner what I wanted.”

  “Thank you, Sam. I think I needed to hear that.” It was then that she nervously admitted she was seeing someone new. “We had the kids conversation upfront. I learned that much from what happened with us.”

  Afterward, I was struck by that thought. What had I learned? Underneath the bitterness and guilt, which were fading faster now, I’d told myself that I’d learned not to risk my livelihood with love. But that felt hollow.

  “How are the bars going?”

  “It’s not the same without you, but profits are holding steady, and we’ve been approached for a local partnership. I’m exploring options right now. I want to make sure it’s a safe bet before I make any decisions.”

  The statement was so cold and calculated that I was transported to how different our relationship had been. How different Tiffany was. It was unnecessary and yet grounding—Tiffany wasn’t Piper. And perhaps, more importantly, I wasn’t the same man I’d been.

  Yes, I’d changed since I had arrived, but it was clear that I still had a lot to learn. I needed to be better.

  46

  Tiff

  It was obvious that Sam’s life before and the way his last relationship ended was a sore point. I’d seen Audrey deal with the same thing after her divorce. His defensiveness whenever someone (usually me) had an opinion about the bar. His reluctance to commit himself to anything outside of work. His half-answers whenever we talked about the future.

  It was a shame. Much like Auds, he had a big heart. It wasn’t right that one bad experience could shut that away. And even if his future didn’t involve me, he deserved to be happy. To find love again.

  He just needed to let himself.

  God, I just wanted to prove it to him, convince him of everything I saw in him, what we all saw in him. It was a constant fight with myself not to tie him down and just talk until he realized what he was pushing away.

  But that was the old me. No matter how much I wanted to fix this, fix him, that wasn’t my place. And it definitely wasn’t how I wanted our relationship to be. Sam was a grown-ass man. He was smart (most of the time). If he really wanted something, he’d figure out how to make it happen.

  And if that wasn’t me …

  Well, I was a grown-ass woman. I’d be okay.

  Eventually.

  It’s been two weeks since I’d seen Sam. He wasn’t a big texter, but he’d occasionally respond if I sent anything.

  Quinn sent me updates on the bar with some uninspired asides relating to Sam, but I’d told her that we were friends and nothing more.

  I missed him, but I had a life to live, and he’d made his bed.

  A whimsical (and rather complicated knock) sounded at my front door, and I was laughing as I opened the door to Wes. Olivia was beside him, and I was surprised. Like Wes, she was a co-lead of The Guild, the urban fantasy TV show Jackson filmed. And like Wes, I’d only met her briefly a handful of times. Although I’d invited Wes to help me with a new project, seeing both of Jackson’s co-stars at my front door was amusing. “Should I be expecting anyone else?”

  “Hey, you said you needed help, and Liv is the best person I know.” I didn’t miss the tinge of seriousness in his voice, and I resolved to ask him about it later.

  “Tiff, right? We met—”

  “A few times. Last was Audrey’s birthday, back in February.” I opened the door, stepping back to let them both in. “It’s good to see you again. Unlike this idiot, who I can’t seem to get rid of.”

  “I have that same issue. Every single day I go to work, there he is.”

  “Both of you are blessed with my presence, admit it.”

  Before I could say anything, Liv pushed his face away with one hand, turning to me. “Don’t mind him.”

  “I never do.”

  “I hope you don’t mind me tagging along. Wes was talking about the videos you were planning, and I got curious. Started pestering him with questions he couldn’t answer—”

  “Because I’m supposed to know what your lighting situation is, apparently.”

  She ignored him. “Anyway, we figured it was just easier if I came along.” There was a split second pinch in Wes’ smile at “we,” and another puzzle piece slotted into place for me.

  I returned her smile because I was more than grateful for the extra help. “Three heads are better than one, especially since I’m not even sure where to start.”

  Wes pulled out a camera, winking. “Oh, that’s easy.”

  Liv had been assessing the room, nodding to herself, before she pointed to a spot in the corner, by the window. “I think we should set up over here. There’s some natural light that should work for now. If you want to really do this, you might want to think of getting a studio light and a softbox, but we can think about that later.”

  Wes began setting the camera up, propping it on a box he found and then messing around with the settings. Liv watched as I touched up my makeup, offering the occasional suggestion before asking, “So, what made you think of this?”

  I shrugged as best I could while adding some white liner to my waterline. “Funnily enough, it was something Jackson said. Then Jordan,” and I realized they had no idea who I was referring to, “a well-known bar owner, offered me a job heading up his new place in New York.”

  “That’s incredible.”

  “It was flattering, that’s for sure. But it got me thinking that I know enough, and I love sharing it, so why not give this a go. What have I really got to lose? I’ve got some savings to get me through and options if it doesn’t work out.”

  “Do you have a game plan? Where do you even start?”

  Absentmindedly, I pointed in the direction of my home bar while admiring my highlighter (did I want to add more?). “I thought I’d start with the basics of a home bar but focusing on elevated options.”

  In the corner of my eye, I saw Wes walk over to it, shuffling bottles to get a look at the labels. “I don’t know half of these.”

  He was holding a bottle up when I glanced over. “Oh, that’s my uncle’s whiskey. He started making his own a year ago from his place in Kentucky. Went through a midlife crisis after his divorce and bought an acreage. Always trying to get me to visit.” I wanted to. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen him, but with work and … “Huh, I guess I could do it now. I could use a little R&R. You should see this place. It’s practically a resort.” I pulled up a photo my mama had sent, showing it to Liv.

  “Wow. That looks amazing. What I wouldn’t give to stay out there. I’ve never really seen the country.”

  “You should go.” I chuckled at her surprise. “Trust me. He loves visitors. And he lives out there by himself. You’ll get a whole wing and a guided tour.”

  “Sounds like a great idea,” Wes added. “Especially if it means more of this.” He’d taken it upon himself to pour some into a glass, tasting it.

  “Okay,” I said, happy with my makeup now and turning to Liv for a second opinion. “What do you think? Good enough?”

  “Are you kidding? You look great. I wish I had your bone structure.”

  “Please. You’re the star here.”

  “If you’re going to fight over who is the prettiest, at least acknowledge that, next to me, neither of you stand a chance.” Wes joked, twisting out of the way when Liv reached over to smack his arm.

  “So, what’s next?”

  Good question. “Have either of you done this before?” I asked.

  Wes wasn’t bothered. “No, but there are literal children out there with millions of followers. How hard can it be?”

  “That’s the first thing someone says before finding out exactly how hard something is,” I said, wondering
how this became my life.

  Wes clapped his hands together. “Don’t worry so much, Tiffster. It’ll be fine.”

  “If you value your life, that’ll be the last time you call me that.” But he was right. What did I have to lose? “Alright, then. I’m putting myself in your very capable hands.”

  Wes brightened. “Great. I’ve been told many times that I’m very good with my—” Liv’s hand was suddenly cupped over his mouth, and I laughed at the indignant squeak that escaped him.

  “All done!” Liv said afterward. “That was pretty fun, actually. Probably needs some editing, but you’re a natural on camera.”

  “It’s easy being myself, I guess.”

  “Can I ask you something?” Liv asked, tentative. Wes busied himself by hovering again at my bar until I gave him the ok to help himself, which he did with glee.

  I turned my attention back to Liv. “Shoot.”

  “It’s not really my place, but … Wes mentioned there was something going on with your boss?”

  I pinned him with a glare. “Oh, did he now?” He had the grace to look uncomfortable, at least. Softening, I said to Liv, “There was, but there isn’t anymore.”

  “Is that why you left your job?”

  “No, I quit before that.” Barely, I remembered with a smirk. There was an odd distance to my memories of that night. Of how long ago it felt. So much had changed since then. My reasons for leaving seemed so important, and now I could barely remember what they were.

  I caught a flash of worry in Liv’s expression and saw Wes’ own concern as he watched her. Oh. “If you’re worried about mixing work and pleasure, I don’t think the two of you have much to be concerned about. Isn’t the entertainment industry littered with couples who met on set?”

  Two sets of eyes widened, and Liv broke into an embarrassed laugh. “Me and Wes? No! No. We’re just friends.”

  One look at Wes told me that was likely far from true, but those puppy dog eyes of his were practically begging me to let this slide, so I did. “Boss, then?”

  She blushed, a pretty pink brightly showing against her pale cheeks. “We’re not telling anyone, at least not until the show ends.”

  “That has to be tough.”

  “Did your coworkers know about you and …”

  “Sam,” I said. “No. But I’m not sure they would have cared. Maybe if I was still working there, but now?” I shook my head. “Other people knowing wasn’t the issue with us.”

  “Can I ask what happened?”

  “We gave ourselves a used-by date. When we reached it, I wanted to continue. He didn’t. Sam and I …” I sighed. “We both know what we want, and right now, his priority is the bar. I never told him how I felt, but Sam’s a smart man. If he doesn’t know already, he’ll figure it out.”

  “So, you’re just going to wait around for him? That doesn’t seem like you.”

  “Who the hell said I’m waiting around? I’ve got my own shit to worry about.” I smiled. “Or did you think I invited you here for my own amusement?”

  Wes didn’t budge. Damn those puppy dog eyes. It’s like trying to lie to a Labrador.

  “I’m not waiting around,” I stated. Because I would never. “But I might be keeping busy and hoping he gets his head out of his ass.”

  “And if he doesn’t?” There’s a resigned acceptance in Wes’ voice like he was doing his own waiting.

  “Then … I keep going. There’ll always be a part of me that loves him, but you can’t change how other people feel.”

  47

  Tiff

  There was a decisive knock on my door, and I groaned. Who the hell was it now? This was getting ridiculous. I missed the days when only Audrey showed up at my place.

  I half hoped it was Audrey when I opened the door, not expecting to be faced with Sam’s arresting eyes instead.

  Butterflies erupted in my stomach. Traitors.

  “Hi, Sam.”

  “Jordan said you turned down the job.”

  That’s why he was here?

  He didn’t wait for a response. “Why didn’t you take it? You have so many options. You could go wherever you want, work anywhere.”

  “I don’t want anywhere. I want to be here. I want ...”

  “What, Tiffany?”

  “Why are you here, Sam?”

  “I … Can I come in? Or are we going to have this entire conversation in the hallway?”

  “And what conversation is that?” I was being a brat, but goddammit, he was standing there, looking as handsome as ever, maybe more so because I hadn’t seen him in weeks, and I was fighting every urge I had to touch him.

  “Tiffany, please.” It was as much of a plea as I’d heard from him, and my grip tightened on the door handle as my body flushed.

  And how could I say no?

  I let him inside. “Can I get you a drink? Water? Coffee?”

  “Water is fine.”

  I tried to distract myself by getting us both a glass, all too aware of him standing awkwardly in the middle of the room, a hand shoved into his pockets, the silence building between us.

  “So,” I said, feeling the echo of the last time I’d started a conversation that way.

  “Why didn’t you go to New York?”

  “I told you, I want to stay here. My life isn’t in New York. Jordan’s offer was nice,” I ignored his huffed disagreement, “but I’m not interested. He didn’t seem to have a problem with it, so I’m not sure why you do.”

  “I don’t have a problem with it,” he said, cryptic as ever.

  I studied him, trying to get a read on what the hell he was doing here. He looked nervous, which probably shouldn’t have made me happy, but it was reassuring to know I wasn’t the only one. He looked stressed—no, pained—and vulnerable, and I quickly drank the entire glass of water to soothe my suddenly dry throat.

  Anticipation began warring with the hope stirring within me, and I felt a strange sickness, trying to fight it back. “What do you want, Sam?”

  “Quinn came to see me about the coalition.”

  I’d hoped she would. “I’m glad to hear that. Are you going to be a part of it?”

  “Of course.”

  Jesus, this was awkward. My empty glass felt heavy in my hands, but I had nowhere to put it without moving away. So, instead, we both stood at an odd distance from each other, catching and avoiding the other’s gaze, like the world’s most uncomfortable game of chicken. My entire body felt magnetized towards him, but I held firm. It didn’t matter how willing I was to open up if he didn’t feel the same.

  That said, the awkward silence was excruciating. “How are the plans for the reopening coming?”

  He opened his mouth, thought better of it, and closed it again. I shoved my hands into the pockets of my jeans, just for something to do. I was about to crawl out of my skin.

  He took a step closer. “That isn’t really why I came here.” I suddenly realized he was holding a large envelope when he dropped his gaze to it, turning it over in his hands. “I have something to ask you.”

  My pulse picked up, even though I had zero clue about what the hell was happening. I was racing to figure it out, but every possibility seemed ludicrous.

  “Actually,” he said, looking back up at me, “I’m getting ahead of myself. I need to apologize first. I’ve been an idiot.”

  “I won’t argue with that.”

  He didn’t acknowledge my interruption, but I saw the smile he tried to hide. “I’ve tried to think of where I could have prevented this, but honestly, I think I was doomed the moment I met you. Maybe even before that.” He paused, then, his expression complicated, and I could practically see him weighing what he wanted to say. He turned the envelope over in his hands. “I like you, Tiffany,” he laughed softly at himself. “Which I know is a ridiculous thing to say when we’ve been sleeping together, but I want you to know that I do. Like you. And respect you. You’re one of the most incredible people I’ve ever met. It frustrated me when we
first met. I hate how blind I was back then. I completely misjudged you, and I was dismissive and—”

  “You were a dick,” I added helpfully.

  He looked at me, pained, and I wanted to take it back, but he stopped me. “No, you’re right. And I’m sorry. It’s not an excuse, but I was too caught up in my own problems, what I’d left behind, and the bar.” Another unimpressed look flashed across his face. “It’s something I’m trying to get better at, but the point is—”

  “What is the point, Sam?” It might be the most I’d ever heard him say, and yet, I still couldn’t work out why he was here. What he was getting at. I knew what I wanted it to be, but damn, did he have to take so long to get there? I was aging here.

  Sam took a tentative step forward, and my skin tingled in anticipation. “I was scared. After Piper, I was convinced that I had to do it all on my own, that if I let someone back in, history would repeat itself. And when I realized how much I felt for you …” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I’d like to repeat, I’ve been an idiot.”

  “What you said really hurt me.”

  “I know,” his hand reached for me, but I retreated, stopping him.

  “No, wait. I need to get this out.” Suddenly, I was nervous. “I know I look tough, and I am, but that doesn’t make me invincible. All my life, I’ve been fighting other people’s judgments of me. When it’s coming from Hannah or Pierce, I can take it. But hearing those same things from you … Sam, I love you, but I can’t be with anyone who can’t accept me for who I am. If you’re here trying to make things right, that’s great, but if you’re here to try and change me, then you can take your apology and walk straight back out that door.”

  “I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but I need you to know that I don’t blame you for anything. I wouldn’t want you to be anyone other than you. No exceptions. Because you’re incredible. You have this light, a fire, that I don’t think I ever felt before I met you, and it’s addictive. From the moment I met you, you got under my skin, and I kept telling myself to stay away from you, and when I couldn’t, I told myself that it was because I was letting how I felt override my sense, and then everything with Pierce happened and I just …” His hand flapped awkwardly in the air, and I took pity on him.