CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Liam
“You did what now?” Toni asked, glaring at me with a very large knife in her hand.
I back away a few steps and put my hands out.
“Listen, I just completely freaked out. She called me upset, I went over there. I’m not used to playing the boyfriend. Things got a little out of hand, and, well, I bolted.”
“This was when?”
“Saturday morning,” I said quietly.
“SHIT, Chef. It’s Tuesday. What the fuck is wrong with you? No wonder you’ve been in a shit mood all weekend.”
I shrugged.
“I told you I wasn’t good enough for her.”
“You weren’t fucking kidding.”
Toni put down the knife and started pacing, too angry to even look at me. Bree poked her head in to ask a question, saw the scene playing out, and stepped cautiously through the door.
“What’s going on?” she asked.
Toni stopped and looked at her.
“Oh, nothing. I just asked Chef about his day off and he casually mentioned fucking Maggie on Friday then taking off in the night,” she said.
Bree whipped around to glare at me. Now I had two fierce women pissed at me. This was not going to be a good day.
“Listen, in my defense, I did try to get in touch,” I said.
“Please, for the love of all that’s holy, tell me you didn’t text her,” Bree said.
“Of course not!” I said, indignant. “I went over there. She wasn’t home. I even went by the hotel, but they told me she’d taken a few days off.”
“You try calling her?” Toni asked.
I shook my head.
“No. After that, I just lost my nerve. I fucked up. Better to just walk away from the whole thing. I don’t want to drag her into my fucked up life.”
“Your life is not fucked up, Chef. You just don’t know how to do relationships. And neither does she. This is something you can do together if you give it half a chance,” Toni said.
She’d calmed down enough to pick up her knife and resume chopping. I stood by the stove, watching my sauces simmer and reduce. I wasn’t so sure she was right.
*
When my shift was done, I got into my car and started driving. I wasn’t sure where I was going until I found myself heading towards Highway 4. A margarita seemed like a good idea.
I pulled into the parking lot at Elena’s and made my way inside. The place was packed for a Tuesday night, and once again I thanked God for the tourist season. There was a crowd of people around my age at the bar so I made my way over. I instantly recognized a few faces, seasonal renters who were regulars at the restaurant, and the rounds starting coming.
By eleven o’clock, I’d forgotten my troubles and was having a great time. Fuck it all. This was who I was meant to be. Where I was meant to be. Out drinking after a hard day’s work, not consoling some woman over a book deal gone wrong. I was not that guy.
Even if maybe I wanted to be.
“Hey, can I get you another drink?”
I looked over and saw Greg, the bartender, awaiting my answer. I nodded and he grabbed my glass, instantly replacing it with a fresh scotch. The night was young, and I could always cab it back if necessary. There was a cute blond on my right, and I turned my attention to her.
“Hey. Liam,” I said.
She smiled and put down her drink to shake hands.
“Rebecca. You don’t recognize me?”
I paused and studied her for a moment, trying to remember if I’d slept with her, but no bells were ringing.
“I’m sorry. I don’t. Is that horrible?” I asked.
She laughed, a melodic little sound that made me smile, and put her hand on mine.
“No, it’s not. I was in your restaurant a couple of nights ago.”
“Ah.”
The relief must have been plain on my face because she burst out laughing.
“Did you think we’d slept together?” she asked.
I grinned sheepishly and shrugged.
“Listen, you’re really cute, and things have been known to happen,” I said.
She swiveled around on her stool and crossed her legs, looking directly at me.
“You’re a flirt,” she said.
“That accusation has been leveled previously, yes.”
“Buy me a drink.”
“It would be my pleasure.” I turned to the bartender. “Greg! Can you get Becca here another of whatever she’s drinking?”
Greg nodded and got to work mixing the drink. I turned back to see her grinning wickedly.
“Becca?”
I shrugged again.
“Suits you.”
“So tell me, Chef, what brings you out all alone on a Tuesday night?” she asked.
“I was hoping to meet you.”
“Oh, that’s bad. Wanna try again?”
I thought about it for a moment as I took a swig of my drink.
“I’m getting over a broken heart.”
She cocked her head and studied me.
“Well, that I believe.”
“Do you? I’m not so sure.”
“You’ve never had your heart broken before?” she asked.
“Didn’t even know I had one,” I answered honestly.
“This sounds serious. Tell me.”
She signalled Greg for another round so I downed the rest of my drink.
“Ever read romance novels?” I asked.
She burst out in shocked laughter.
“Actually, I do, why do you ask?”
“I somehow found myself in the classic scenario of fake- relationship-turned-real.”
Once articulated, it felt like a huge weight had been lifted off my shoulders. Crazy as it sounded, that was exactly what had happened. And once I realized it hadn’t been my fault, that I’d been thrust into the situation and things had just taken a turn, I understood why I’d been freaking out. I was a man in control of my destiny, but after meeting Maggie, I had lost that control.
“You’re kidding, right? How does that even happen?” Rebecca asked.
I snapped back to attention and looked at her as if seeing her for the first time. This had clearly gone from a pick-up situation to a therapy session, but I was oddly okay with that. Possibly even relieved.
“Well, it was kind of like this...” I proceeded to tell her the entire story, from start to finish, as we went through several more rounds of drinks. By the time I was done, we were both drunk off our asses. She laughed at something I said and slipped off her stool. I reached out to grab her arm, and she held onto me as she righted herself.
“Interesting.”
I turned around to put a face to the familiar voice and there stood Tammy, shooting daggers at me with her eyes.
“Tammy!” I said. “Hey. How are you?”
“Clearly not as good as you are, Chef.”
She turned on her heel and walked out of Elena’s. Shit.