I know she’s referring to her own life, but her warning rings loud in my ear. Both my sisters have gotten themselves into trouble. And even though they’ve changed their ways, I still feel like I need to prove to myself and my parents that I’m not like them.
“You’re right, and I’ll take care of it. Listen, I’m starving and want to grab a bite.” I walk toward my fridge and pop it open, searching desperately for some inspiration on something to nosh on.
“Okay. Don’t drink too much.”
A giggle escapes. My sister knows me all too well.
“Yeah, yeah,” I respond in a mocking tone.
“Love you, Bridget.” Olivia chuckles.
“Love you, too.”
When I hang up, I grab a small container of ice cream from the freezer. I feel defeated by my day. Karen isn’t going to take this well. If I still have my life at the end of this, it’ll be a miracle, but Olivia is right. I need to grow up. With that settled, I pull out a spoon from the drawer and scoop into the mint chocolate chip container. It’s cold and refreshing and makes everything better . . .
Almost.
Halfway through my ice cream fest, my friend Brian texts me, asking me to meet him at some sick party being held at the hottest new lounge in the Meatpacking District. After having a day from hell, a drink is sure to lift my spirits. My options for the evening are limited. Drown myself in sweet confections or try to be social and forget. Brian’s cute, and with all the bullshit over the last day with Axis, and being sexually harassed, having a drink and flirting—hell, maybe even taking it further than flirting—sounds like the perfect distraction I need. But now as I stand here all alone and waiting, it’s the worst idea in the world.
With a lift of my hand, I bring the shot of tequila to my mouth and down it in one long gulp.
“Rough day?” the bartender asks.
“Rough life,” I respond, and he lifts his eyebrow for me to expand on that statement. “Basically, I had to walk out on my dream job because my boss was a chauvinistic pig. Staying there would have had trouble written all over it.”
“Damn, that sucks. But look at the bright side. At least you aren’t that guy.” He nods, motioning at the guy on the dance floor making a complete ass of himself. He’s gyrating around to his own rhythm, one that does not match the beat of the music.
I throw my head back on a laugh as the man breaks into the running man. “This is true. Things can always be worse.”
He smiles and pours me another shot. “On me.”
By the time I down it, he’s moved on to the next patron, so I take the time to look at my phone to see if maybe Brian texted. Nothing.
“Did he stand you up?” the bartender asks over his shoulder as he pours a pint of beer.
“How do you know I’m waiting for a guy?”
The corners of his eyes crinkle and I can’t help but deflate at the prospect that everyone around me knows I’ve been stood up. Today has been a spirit crusher, and it just keeps getting worse. All I needed was one night. One freaking night to try to forget, but no.
“It’s his loss,” the bartender says with a small smile.
I smile back, my grin never reaching my eyes.
Standing to go, I look across the room and spot Brian. I scrunch my nose as I watch him kissing some hot blonde with a skirt that looks as if it could easily pass as underwear. Clearly, Brian’s all but forgotten about me. I really shouldn’t care, but I do. It’s just one more rejection I can’t handle. Not today. Without another word, I throw my credit card onto the bar. The bartender lifts it from the counter and heads over to the register to close out my tab. As I wait, my head turns around the space to search for the nearest exit. I need to get out of here before I break down.
As soon as I have the bill squared away, I head toward a side exit. I shiver when the burst of chilled air assaults me. My arms wrap around my body, clinging tightly, trying to stave off the tears. It’s no use. I swipe a stray teardrop from my cheek and hurry my steps, eager to get as far from this place as possible. I’m rounding the corner when I collide with a hard body.
“Whoa there,” a throaty, masculine voice curls around me. Hands grip my shoulders to steady me. “You came awful fast around that corner.” The man chuckles.
I don’t say a word. What’s there to say? If I speak, I might break. A whimper escapes my mouth instead.
“Hey. Are you okay?” He removes his grasp, leaving me vacant and unsteady without it.
The man bends down so we’re eye to eye. My breath hitches and butterflies take flight. Even in the dark I can tell this man is attractive. No, that’s not the right word. He’s beautiful, absolutely gorgeous, and here I am having a meltdown in his arms. Fabulous fucking day.
“Can you hear me?” He is pulling me out of my inner ramblings. I search his eyes, unable to discern what color they are, but they’re large and expressive. Right now, he’s clearly concerned, and that thought has me coming to my senses and backing away.
Wet rivulets cascade down my face and I try to swipe them away. “I’m fine.”
“Did someone hurt you?” he asks, his friendly tone taking a possessive cut, that’s rough around the edges. Almost scary. I would not want to cross this man.
He doesn’t know a thing about me, but he’s acting like he’s ready to go toe to toe with whoever has me in this state. My head cocks to the side, and I take him in, my curiosity piqued. He’s breathtaking. Tall and lean, easily six foot three. He runs his fingers through his unruly brown locks, and suddenly, I imagine my own hands brushing through them. My face warms to what I believe is a crimson blush.
“I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to run into you,” I offer, trying desperately to resurrect my current state. He probably thinks I’m a crazy person. I run into him and then I don’t speak for what feels like an hour while he assesses my state of unrest. It’s humiliating. Especially given how well-put-together he is. Dressed from head to toe in what looks to be a fine Italian suit pressed to perfection and fitting his body like a glove. My mouth stands agape, and it’s not until he chuckles at my perusal that I’m brought back to Earth.
Pull yourself together.
“I’m fine. I’ve just had a really bad night,” I offer as a lame attempt to move the conversation forward.
“Me too. Is there a guy back there I need to have a word with?” the stranger offers, smirking as my eyes widen.
“No. I mean, yes, but no. It wouldn’t be worth speaking to him. His tongue is lodged down some busty blonde’s throat. It’s fine, though. I wasn’t really into him anyway. I just had a bad day and was looking forward to some decent conversation, drinks, and a night to forget, ya know? It’s my fault for caring. I shouldn’t.” My recount of the night explodes from my mouth in a waterfall of word vomit. When I’m uncomfortable, I ramble. It’s always been a nervous tic.
“Anyway, I should’ve stayed home and worked on my apology to this temp agency I’m currently working with. I up and left a high-profile client today because he couldn’t keep his hands to himself, and now Karen’s going to kill me, but that’s my problem, not yours, and anyway . . .”
His eyes are wide.