“That is news to me! For crying out loud, we just bought this damn house because you wanted to!” I started pacing. “Where are you? We need to talk this out face to face. You at least owe me that.”
“That’s not happening. I’m not coming home.” She whispered.
“What in the ever-loving fuck is going on right now?” I kicked the coffee table, sending it summersaulting across the living room.
“I’m getting on a plane.”
I gasped, literally gasped. It took me a couple of seconds to pick my jaw up off the floor. “What?”
I could hear the noise of automated airport announcements and travelers talking in the background of the call. As it all started clicking, I started breaking.
“I’m heading to Chicago.”
* * *
“What do you mean, gone?”Walker asked as he shifted in his regular barstool at Charlie’s.
“Like, her stuff was packed and she was at the airport getting ready to board a plane to Chicago before I even made it home from the training shit I had,” I explained. Saying the words out loud was harder than I had expected. It was embarrassing that a woman I’d been preparing to spend the rest of my life with had up and left me for another guy without me even realizing there was a problem.How dense could I have really been all of these years?
“I don’t fucking get it,” Walker mumbled before sipping from his beer. “Maverick, of all people?”
“I wish I could say I was surprised, but I’m not.”I rubbed the back of my neck feeling even more foolish because at the end of the day, of course it would have been Maverick Steele. Ever since Cali met the rock-god bassist of The Hysterics, I knew they had a connection, and I was naïve to think she could ignore it to be with me.
“Fucking Cali. Mags is beyond pissed,” Walker replied.
I knew it was going to be hard for everyone. We had all been best friends since college—it was supposed to be us against the world. But, things change. People change. And I was going to have to move on.
Takingin the still night air, I walked the few blocks to my brand-new bachelor pad. It was the most depressing part of the entire move because it was fucking breathtaking—ash gray hardwood flooring, white granite counters in the kitchen, dark brown cabinets, a gorgeous city view, brand new appliances that would make Wolfgang Puck jealous—and I didn’t have anyone to share it with. I had my bed set up and my TV mounted on the wall in my bedroom, and that was it. Procrastination had gotten the better of me. The rest would come when it did; I didn’t really care at that point.
Opening my fridge, I knew the only thing in there was going to be beer and orange juice. It was perfectly bachelor-esque and I fucking loved it; it was the only good thing about being single that I could figure out so far—I didn’t have to stock up on fucking chick food. It had been a few years since I had lived on my own, without my dad or a woman breathing down my neck all of the time, and I was going to soak up every damn minute of that freedom.
“There’s always a silver lining,” I muttered to myself as I leaned into the cold fridge to grab a brown bottle.
I cracked open a Bud Heavy, tossing the red cap onto the counter. Trudging, I made my way to relax on my king-sized, pillow-topped cloud of a bed, hoping to catch the end of the NY Otters game.
My boots were about to drop to the floor when my phone vibrated in my pocket.
Bryn: Hey, are you still down to hang out tonight?
I liked that she was all right with texting first. I hated the games of dating—totally not my thing. Being out of the game for as long as I had been, I didn’t even know the first thing about dating anymore. Times sure had changed since I was in college and single. Back then we would just host a fraternity party and there’d be tons of overly hot girls, ripe for the picking. There was no such thing as dating apps, no swiping through pictures to find potential hookups. I had been so relieved when Bryn took my phone and didn’t play hard to get. I wasn’t good at chasing. I was too nervous of coming on too strong and scaring someone off.
Me: For sure. Name the place and I will head that way.
Bryn sent me the address of a pub that was only about ten minutes from my apartment. I chugged my beer, changed my shirt three times, felt ridiculous for feeling uneasy, and ordered an Uber, all in a matter of minutes.
The drive to the bar was short and uncomfortable. I never knew what to say to random drivers but until my truck was shipped from Orlando in a few weeks, Uber was going to be my saving grace.
“New around here?” the driver asked in a hoarse voice.
I cleared my throat. “Yeah, just moved here.”
“Liking it so far?”He looked at me from the rearview mirror with yellowing eyes.
“From what I have seen of it, so far so good,” I spit out. I had no fucking clue; I’d only been able to call St. Louis home for a few days.
We pulled off to the curb in front of an old brick building with a blaring neon sign that read: Irish Kevin’s.
“Well, welcome to my hometown. Hope it treats you well,” his raspy voice chortled through the small sedan.