There will be no seeing Hayes again other than on his larger-than-life billboard ads. Or on one of the bazillion magazine covers that adorn the checkout stands, accusing him of cheating on Jenna Dixon: his girlfriend or ex-girlfriend or who knows what she is to him because they are tabloids after all. Or if I don’t flip the channel quick enough when he makes a promotional appearance on Ellen or Jimmy Fallon. Because I screwed up. I assumed Hayes had shown up because Ryder called him. And maybe he felt bad about what had happened a long time ago, thought I was pathetic and pitied my situation with Mitch so he came to save the day. Or laugh at me. Both would have made me feel the same way.
But he hadn’t.
Not even close. He didn’t even have a clue what I was talking about, but my temper was unleashed, my mouth in motion without thinking. All Hayes wanted to do was pick up an order for his great-uncle’s memorial. Mitch used to joke that he needed to carry duct tape for my mouth in case I lost my cool, so I wouldn’t make a scene and tarnish the pristine Layton reputation. Now I can see why.
Talk about being an idiot with a capital I.
Even worse is that, despite all of this as I lie here in bed, every part of me wants to find some way to apologize to Hayes. I need to explain but know that would only result in me feeling like more of an idiot when I tell him I was a runaway bride. That the wedding bells I thought I heard were actually alarm bells warning me to save myself and run the opposite way. How do I save face and make him see I’m not crazy when I tell him any of that? That I was in a perfectly solid relationship for six years but when it came down to brass tacks, I couldn’t do it.
I’ll just have to lie low. Keep to myself and away from any of the places I know he frequents when he’s here. Avoidance is probably best at this point.
With that decided and feeling a bit more settled, I slowly sink into the edge of sleep.
My mind drifting to that first kiss.
To our last kiss.
To how my heart jumped in my throat and every female part of me reacted to the sight of him in the bakery.
To the man I shouldn’t be thinking about but can’t seem to shake from my mind.
I should be working.
I should be listening to the promises I made to myself.
I should be doing a lot of things and the one I shouldn’t, I’m about to do.
The bar was loud when I entered. The deep pulse of bass bumped through the speakers, and it took a second for my eyes to adjust to the darkness inside the Blue Devil.
It’s all Ryder’s fault. Him and his you need to get out and have some fun. His a bunch of us are going out tonight to just have a few drinks and relax after a long week. His you’re gonna burn yourself out because you’re working too hard. You’ve been through a lot and it’s not going to kill you if you’re not there one night.
Maybe I feel like I owe it to him to show up after turning him down week after week when he’s just trying to be a good brother by looking out for me. Then again, maybe I showed up tonight because I feel guilty for immediately assuming he had contacted Hayes and my threatening to kill him. Not that he knew, of course.
Regardless, I’m here and now suddenly feel totally out of place in this huge club packed full of bulging biceps and pushed-up boobs. I take in the short skirts riding up the thighs of women around me and the tight shirts putting the rest of their assets on display, and feel completely inadequate in my black slacks and light pink top.
It’s not like I’m a slouch in the looks department—at least I’m lacking the blue frosting that decorated my hair yesterday—but this place is so very different than the places Mitch and I used to frequent. It’s more my age than the country club scene, and yet I hate that I feel so uncomfortable when, at age twenty-seven, I should fit right in.
I think back to how I let Mitch’s influence slowly change the wild and reckless in me to sophisticated and reserved. From vibrant colors to muted beiges. How even though I understand the complexity of the concept now—that less can also be more—a part of me vows from here forward to throw a few splashes of color back in there to regain the spirit of the girl I used to be.
The one Hayes liked.
The one that made Mitch grimace.
I glance up at Ryder when he places another cocktail in front of me and shake my head—glad for the drink and the derailment of my thoughts. “Are you trying to get me drunk?” A giggle escapes my lips and it sounds strange because I don’t giggle. Ever.
“It’s not my fault you’re a lightweight.” He smirks and leans down closer to my ear so I can hear what he says. “You deserve a night off. I appreciate how hard you’re working so we don’t lose our asses, but you’re going to burn out if you don’t take a break. Besides, you’re young. You haven’t been out once since you’ve been single. Live a little, sis. Be everything Mitch wouldn’t let you be. I’ll make sure you don’t get into too much trouble.”