I nod. “He’s the best man at my best friend’s wedding this summer. Anyway, we’ve been spending time together. Kind of forced, kind of not. But I know he’s not good for me.”
“So dump him.” Dill shrugs.
“Really? That’s your solve-all answer? ‘Dump him’?”
“Carry on.”
“I like him. Like, I think I really like him. He’s just not good for me…emotionally.” I nibble the skin on the side of my thumb. “What do you do when you want someone and they want you but you know they’re the absolute worst thing for you?”
Both men stare at me like I’ve grown two heads. Their gazes soon turn contemplative. How do I know? They’re both gazing into their beers like that’s exactly where they’ll find their answer.
When they don’t respond after a moment, I serve someone else at the end of the bar.
“I guess the only thing you can do is to walk away. If they’re really that bad for you, you have no reason to stay,” Donny finally says.
“And if walking away would hurt as much as staying?”
Dill sips his pint. “Then you’re fucked either way, darlin’. You gotta pick the one with the happiest ending.”
“But I don’t know which one that is.”
“Then you have to guess and hope you get it right.”
Yeah, that’s exactly what I’m afraid of.
I walk out of my agent’s office with a spring in my step. Kind of. I even give Clara a smile. So it’s little bitchy, but it was nicer than the I-wish-you-were-six-feet-under glare she gave me.
Whatever.
But there’s a spring in my step and the sun is shining. It’s, like, thirty degrees, but the sun is still there.
When Sheila called me in right away, telling me that there was big news, I nearly crapped my pants.
What? Victoria Secret? Did they want me? Oh my god. Was this it?
Of course, I totally forgot about the Balfour shoot—and my bra, but that’s another story. They’ve selected five models to go to California tomorrow to test shoot actually on the beach. They’re being kind of picky, but I get it. It’s their first big headline campaign.
And it could be me.
But I’m not thinking of that because, as of right now, I still have to work when I’m supposed to be shooting. Nothing a quick trip in to Donny can’t fix.
I head in the direction of the bar, my happiness and excited mixing with nerves when I think he’ll say that he can’t give me the time off. Because that’s a total possibility. He could say no, despite his promise to be flexible.
This is short notice though. Really, really fucking short notice.
He’s behind the bar when I walk in and give him a sheepish smile.
“What have you done?”
“I’m coming to beg.” I bite the inside of my lip. “I’ve been called for a shoot and need some time off.”
“When?”
“Tomorrow.” I wince as I say the words.
He stops stocking the mini bottles of cranberry juice and slowly turns to me. “Tomorrow?”
“It’s a third test shoot—the final one. I found out literally five minutes ago.”
He looks at me with his light-blue eyes. “Where is it?”
“California.”
“How long?”
“Three days.”
“Go on. I can cover you.”
“Really?” I squeal the word. “You will?”
“I promised you I’d be flexible. But hey, you tell these guys, big-shot company or no, if they want to hire you, I need at least seven days’ notice so I don’t have to bust my ass while one of my pretty barmaids runs out on me.”
I laugh and lean over the bar to kiss his cheek. “You’re a star, Donny. Thank you so much!”
I run out of the bar as quickly as I entered and head back toward my apartment to change. I don’t think my best friend will be impressed if I turn up to meet her for lunch in sweatpants.
No, scratch that. I know she won’t be impressed.
My phone rings just as I get into my apartment. “Hello?”
“Hey, look, I can’t make lunch. I’m so sorry.” Day’s voice travels down the phone. “My dress designer wants to video chat.”
“Oh. Okay. No worries.” Damn. I tell her about being called back for the shoot. She squeals. I squeal. We both laugh.
“What are you going to do now?”
“Keep my sweatpants on.” I snort. “You’re lucky you caught me just before I pulled out a pair of jeans.”
“Lazy bitch. Why don’t you go and make things up with Tyler?”
“Because I have nothing to make up. I’m not the one who got all stick-up-my-ass. I might have pushed it a little, but he was a real fucking prick to me.”