Another night? I ask her.
She takes a minute to respond, and all the while I’m getting more and more anxious. Maybe I should take the hint, but I don’t want to. I at least want to feed her.
Sure. I’d like that.
I’m smiling and thinking about going home when her next text catches me off guard.
What are we doing, Charlie?
What do you mean? I text her back almost instantly.
Fuck, even before she answers I know what’s coming. Grabbing the closest chair and ignoring Mag’s stare, I take a seat and stare at the phone, willing her to respond. I lean forward, my elbows on my knees and wait, rereading her question. What are we doing?
I knew my sister got to her. Why the hell did she have to come in here and mess up what I had going with Grace? Everything was easy, just going with the flow and taking it slow. Making sure I’m not going to hurt her.
We’re just having fun.
I text her back before she can answer, my heart pounding in my chest. I lean back in my seat, the legs screeching as they slide across the floor and run my hand through my hair.
I feel like I’m in a little over my head. I stare at her response for a moment. That sick feeling was right. I knew it. She’s not happy anymore just playing around. I don’t blame her. She knows what she wants, and me fucking around with her is just causing problems for her.
What do you mean? I ask her, as my stomach sinks. I rub my eyes, feeling exhausted and hating myself. What did I really expect from her anyway? I huff out a breath and shake my head as my phone beeps and her reply comes through.
I’m not really sure what it means to just have fun with someone. It seems like I’m going to end up getting hurt and I’m not sure it’s a smart thing for me to do. I’m sorry.
I feel like shit, looking fixedly at the phone in my hand. Brushing my hand over my head out of frustration, I look up and see James at the bar, staring at me as he fills a glass with ice. I nearly snap at him, feeling stressed out and pissed off, but he breaks my stare and looks away as soon as he sees me glaring back.
I suck it up and text Grace back. I knew this was a bad idea. We’re looking for different things in life.
Are you still able to come to the wedding or do I have to tell my sister we broke up?
Shit that hurt to write. I ignore it all, knowing it’s best though. Better to break it off before she gets hurt. Because that’s all I’m going to do anyway.
She’s quick to answer: I’ll still go with you. And just so you know, I really do like you.
I know I should say something to put her at ease. I should tell her something to make her feel safe and comfortable. But I don’t want to lie to her and worse, I don’t want to lead her on. I’m not ready to get married and have kids or any of that shit. And that’s what she’s looking for. Especially knowing she may not be able to. I don’t need a baby-crazy woman trying to lock me down… but it doesn’t stop me from wanting her. At least for as long as I can have her.
Soon as this wedding is over, she’ll probably stop coming here altogether.
Night, Charlie.
I swallow thickly as I look at the screen.
I type in a few responses, but delete them all. I’m not going to lead her on. I won’t do that to her; she deserves better. I finally settle on something simple.
See you later, sweetheart.
Grace
The second I finally pull my headphones off at work, Diane calls my name. My gaze flicks to the clock before turning to see that she’s ready to go for the day, her jacket already on and purse over her shoulder.
“Hey,” she says, striding into my cubicle and leaning against the desk. “I don’t want to ruin your productivity or anything, but it’s almost seven. Our meeting went long.”
She doesn’t need to but gestures to the salespeople who I can see filtering out of the conference room. Rubbing under my eyes I slowly stand up, stretching. I don’t know the last time I got up. I’ve buried myself in work all day. Another productive day.
“You’re not interrupting,” I answer her. “I just came to a stopping point, creatively. Perfect timing.”
“Well, we’re going to the Local. You should come, assuming you’re not too busy with Charlie,” she says, teasing.
At the end of the aisle I spot the gaggle of women gathering near Diane’s cubicle and then glance at my desk. If I start on another project, I’ll be here until midnight at least and I’m sure as heck not doing that.
“Okay,” I say with both a shrug and a smile. “Why not?”
“Cool,” her peppy tone is infectious. “We’ll see you there. It’s karaoke night!”
She shoots finger guns at me, and I can’t help but smile. “See you there.”
The traffic is heavy, and I end up with less time than I’d planned to refresh my makeup and take off my leggings, leaving me in a very short pale peach dress.
Rushing to get there before it’s too late and everyone else is several drinks ahead of me, I let my hair down on the way to the Local. By the time I pull into the parking lot I look — well, at least respectable. The car door shuts with a loud click and I spot Diane instantly, who’s waiting outside the bar.
Taking in the bar patio, I’m immediately unsure. There are six tables outside, every single one packed with twenty-somethings ready to party. They’re loud, and a few are smoking cigarettes. I rub my forearm as I walk toward Diane, feeling like this isn’t exactly my vibe.
“There you are!” Her arm wraps around my shoulder, pulling me in close and I nearly stumble but have to laugh. “I need my drinking buddy. Claire’s driving us home.”
It ends abruptly as the loud noise of the bar hits me the second the door is opened and I nearly stumble again from being pulled in by Diane. Inside it’s madness, lots of little booths packed with people. I have to immediately flatten myself against the wall to avoid a waitress with a tray of drinks. Diane grabs me and pulls me toward the back, where some of our coworkers have managed to secure a table. Thank God we have a table.
“Look who’s here!” she announces.
A rousing cheer goes up, but I assume it has more to do with alcohol than my arrival. I recognize all the girls at the table, but the only one I’m friends with is Ann, and she’s at the other end. I need to move seats. As quickly as possible. Ann says something, shouting it even, but I have no idea what she said. I can barely hear the conversation continuing to my right.
I should tell Diane that I don’t plan on being here long. I just want to blow off some steam before I head home. The conversation with Charlie last night still has me feeling like an idiot. I don’t want to stay past the point of being able to drive myself home.
“Listen, Diane,” I try to get her attention. I’m interrupted by the arrival of two pitchers of beer and a stack of plastic cups. Another cheer goes up from our table.
“Shhh,” Diane says, taking it upon herself to pour me a plastic cup full of foamy beer. “Here, drink up.”
“Actually—” I try again, but Diane is preoccupied. Turning to my one ally here is useless, Ann is wasted. It only makes me grin, happy that she has a chance to get out and have a girls night.
“Shots! How many of us are there? Seven?” Diane shouts absently, turning around and searching for the girl who just brought us the pitchers. “Where’s the waitress?”
I settle back in my seat and sip my beer. Don’t be a party pooper, I chide myself. I guess I’m just still down from the conversation last night. My phone buzzes.
I check it, and see that I have a text from Ann.
Good to see you, girl. I didn’t think you’d come.
My gaze lifts to hers and I see her with her phone in her hand and the smile on her face as she stares back at me.
Good to see you too stranger! I have so much to catch you up on.
Tell me everything! But do it tomorrow so I’ll actually remember.
A huff of a laugh leaves me at her response and instead of respondin
g, I lift my cup to her in cheers and we drink together.
“Hey!” Diane says, snapping her fingers in front of my face. I wrinkle my nose at her, and she smiles. “Quit moping and drink already!”
Soon, not one, but two shots are put in front of me.
Everyone throws the shots back, one and then the other. I do the same, willing the alcohol to drown out all the overthinking I’m doing. To my surprise, it actually tastes good, like a piece of grape-flavored candy.
“Mmm,” I hum appreciatively. I sip my beer and try to fit in.
A night out and some alcohol definitely can’t hurt even though I find myself thinking about Charlie. I don’t know the first mistake I made. Making that bet. Or asking him what we were.
My phone buzzes again and I see it’s from Ann. When I lift my gaze to hers, I see the concern. More beer. She wrote me.
I lift my glass again and pretend I’m not crazy. That I don’t feel like I just had a break-up.
An hour later, we collectively heave ourselves out the front door and into Claire’s car. I drank way too much. I knew it too, but each drink made the anxiety in my chest feel lighter and lighter. And I got to talk to Ann and tell her everything. At least I think I did. I’m not sure she heard it all though through all the noise.
There are six women packed in Claire’s little Nissan Altima, but we’re not going far. Mac's is right around the corner from here, and they’ve got a DJ spinning tonight.
There are three reasons really, why I’m going and that’s what I think about in the car ride there. Although I make sure to laugh when the other girls laugh, clinging to my bottle of water Ann grabbed for me.
I’m too drunk to drive.
I didn’t want to stay at the Local by myself
I want to prove it’s fine; I’m fine. It was silly and nothing happened anyway. Everything is fine, so I’m going.
We get to Mac's in one piece, thanks to Claire being the designated driver. It’s dark inside, with a couple of spotlights casting their glow on the bodies packing the dance floor. It’s not nearly as packed as the Local, but there are more people in here than usual.
“Whoa,” I say as I push through the crowd toward the bar. But then again, I come during the weekdays mostly.
Charlie’s working the far end of the bar, serving drinks to what looks like a whole sorority’s worth of girls. I follow Diane to the other end of the bar, where a younger guy is making drinks. Is that James, I wonder? I don’t remember and my brain is hazy.
I try to think what his name is with every step, but it escapes me. I realize that I must be tipsy, so I try to rein myself in while I stand at the bar, although my eyes keep darting to Charlie, waiting for him to see me. There’s not enough alcohol to make the bundle of nerves in my stomach knock it the heck off.
It takes a couple of minutes for me to get a drink. When I’m finally at the front of the line at the bar, I catch Charlie’s eye. He looks at me first, then at my work friends, and sort of shakes his head. He’s smiling, though. I bite down on my lip, feeling the smile stretch across my face as I rock on my heels.
But before I can even say hi, his attention is diverted back to the coeds, and he says something that makes them all titter. I’m certain one of them attempts to pull Charlie in for a kiss. He dodges the kiss at the last minute, but I’ve had my fill of watching.
It’s just fun.
All that internal pep talk leaves me in a quick second.
I turn away, grabbing my drink, cheeks heating and my throat feeling tight. If Charlie can flirt with every woman who looks his way, there’s nothing saying that I can’t have fun with whoever I want. As if that’s what I want to do right now. I dance my way over to Diane, trying not to let my hurt show. Well my attempt of a dance. It’s more like I sway my way over to her.
It’s not like you even have anything with Charlie, I remind myself.
I put my hands up in the air and dance, careful not to spill my drink. I’m sticking with beer tonight. Diane and the girls join in, and I try to just relax and have fun. I refuse to look over at Charlie, instead plastering my gaze on the back wall where the TVs display some music video.
It doesn’t take long for the group of girls on the dance floor to draw more men in and for Ann to decide her time is up. She rushes out, her husband waiting for her in the parking lot.
With her gone, and Charlie... preoccupied, my mind goes exactly where I don’t want it to.
It’s crowded, it’s loud and I feel like shit. In a room with all these people, I have to force the smile on my face and I just want to go home.
This was a mistake and the second I know that, I sneak out and get a cab home. Not looking back to say goodbye to the girls or to Charlie. I’ll make up some excuse tomorrow but I just have to get out of there. I don’t know what my first mistake was, but coming here tonight sure as hell was a mistake.
Charlie
My alarm clock goes off, but I’m already up. I slap my hand down and the incessant beeping stops. I couldn’t sleep for shit. The whole night, all I kept thinking was that I’m an asshole for trying to be with Grace without giving her a commitment. What’s even worse is feeling like she’s done with me.
She didn’t say a word and she left the moment she got there. She’s most certainly done with me.
I don’t want to be done with her.
Sinking back into the bed, I stare at the thin opening between the dark curtains and watch the stream of light pouring into the bedroom. My only sliver of hope is that she said she’d go to the wedding. I don’t know why I’m holding onto her as hard as I am. We haven’t even kissed. She’s not tied to me in the least.
The bed groans as I slowly slip off the edge and stretch my arms high above my head. I blow out a tired exhale as my bare feet pad across the wooden floors. They’re cold, and I’m pretty sure the furnace went out last night. Every hair on my arms stands on end as goosebumps travel up my back to the base of my neck.
Damn, I hadn’t even noticed. I grab my phone off the nightstand on my way out of the bedroom. I have to call her or text her. Something; I can’t let her think I’m just some prick.
That’s exactly how she looked at me last night. My heart thuds hard in my chest as I climb down the stairs, not bothering to grip onto the iron railing. I don’t go around kissing random women. Maybe I did once, but that was a long time ago.
This house is old, built in the '30s and in need of a little more TLC. I bought it just before I bought the bar from Mac. I round the stairs in the foyer and take in the progress I’ve made. The slate flooring at the entry is fucking freezing against my bare feet. The furnace definitely went out.
I was able to get more work done on the house before I started spending all of my time at the bar. The first floor is completely remodeled, with new practically everything and fresh paint. Gray tones and dark blues are the theme throughout the open floor plan, including the black granite and steel backsplash in the kitchen. I spent all the money I had to make this place into the modern bachelor pad I wanted it to be.
But now when I look at it, it’s just cold. Empty. Devoid of life. The lines are too straight, and the furniture practically looks brand new. 'Cause it’s barely been touched.
The door to the basement opens up with a creak and I switch on the light, a single bulb at the bottom of the rickety stairs. I never did get around to making the downstairs what I wanted it to be. A half-built bar is in the very back. Drywall's been put up and screwed into place, but I haven’t spackled it yet.
I don’t even want to finish it anymore; I think I just wanted to believe I was loving the bachelor life.
The truth hits me hard, like a bullet to the chest, but I keep moving, heading toward the furnace to mess with the electrical box. I know the right cords that need to be wiggled and tightened to get it to kick back on. I should get Joseph to come down here and fix this shit.
As I’m messing with the cords in the box, I think back to how pissed off I was when I bought this
house.
It was the first one on my list. The realtor showed it to me, and I bought it right then and there. All the money that I had saved up for the wedding became a down payment instead.
The furnace clicks on with a loud swoosh and clink.
Shutting the thin metal door to the box, I stare at it as the fire burns high and the sound of air running through the house kicks in.
I didn’t give a damn about anything other than getting as far away as I could without being so far that I’d lose my family.
Now here I am, all these years later, in a cold house, alone.
And pushing away the cute little sweetheart who made me happy for the first time in God knows how long. Why? Because I couldn’t give her an answer to “what are we doing?” that she’d accept.
I kick the basement door shut, feeling more and more pissed at myself, and head to the island to have a seat and call her, but before my ass even sits, the phone goes off in my hand.
And it’s her.
My breath stills for a moment, the only thought being that she’s telling me she’s not going to the wedding. I’ll figure it out one way or the other, but she’s coming. I’ll make it up to her… but she’s coming to that damn wedding, and I’m finally going to get a taste of my sweetheart.
I hit the button and answer the call.
“Hey there sweetheart,” I say easily as if I’m not tense and waiting for her to try to back out of this. As if I’m not trying to figure out exactly what I need to say. I’m not letting her go. I’ve fucked up so much in the last few years, but letting her walk away from me before I’ve had a chance to make a move on her isn’t going to be my next mistake. “Missed talking to you last night.”
“Charlie,” her soft voice pours through the phone, and the tone catches me off guard. It’s apologetic. I hear her breathe into the phone. “Look, before you say anything, I just want to say, I’m very sorry. I shouldn’t have told you off-”
Knocking Boots Page 9
