Lainey’s List Chapter 12

Lainey

“What happened last night?” Charlie asks the minute I walk into the bar.

I press my lips together. Nick has a big mouth. I pretend I don’t hear her and continue to the back of the bar where the staff room is located. When Charlie took over, she combined a storage closet with the office where the lecherous previous owner sat so the employees could have a decent place to take a break.

“Well?” she prods.

“It’s too early for an interrogation,” I reply. I pluck my phone out of the front pocket of my purse before stowing the purse away in one of the cubbies. With a twist of my wrist, I lock the cabinet and turn to face a dogged Charlie. I sigh, knowing she’ll follow me around all day if I don’t give her some kind of answer. “You know us. We’re oil and water.”

Charlie doesn’t buy this. She’s known us both too long. “It’s nice when two people can set aside their differences long enough to have sex on the couch,” she mocks.

I make a face and grab an apron from the wall. How can I explain this to Charlie when it’s hard for me to work out in my own head? “He’s too young.”

“You’re nearly the same age as he is!” she scoffs.

“But I have a kid. I’ve been a grown up since I was 18. I need someone who’s ready to settle down and commit to me. And we both know pro athletes are the worst at keeping their dicks in their pants. I’ve already had my heart broken by a Mustang’s quarterback. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, and I don’t even deserve box wine.”

Charlie pats me on the back. “You’ll always get wine from me, no matter how many bad choices you make.”

“Gee, thanks babe,” I say wryly. But I give her a hug anyway because it was a nice thought.

She returns my embrace with one of her own but doesn’t give up. “People can be ready to settle down young,” she says.

I let her go with a sigh and walk out of the break room toward the bar. The doors open in thirty minutes. I wave hello to our fry cook and give a nod to the waitress that’s shown up. Bars have notoriously bad employees and despite Charlie’s management, ours is no different. The types of people who sleep until one in the afternoon and sling drinks for a living aren’t always the most responsible. Nor do they work here long.

Behind the bar, I start doing inventory. Charlie tags along even though I know she has far better things to do.

“Nick is at prime oat sowing age; not to mention, he has so much opportunity. He’ll be ripe when he retires. If I wanted an athlete, which I don’t, I’d go for one who only has a few years left on his contract and is already transitioning from the field to something else,” I try to explain. “I do want to settle down, but Nick’s not for me.” I use a firm tone and, this time, she lets it go.

“What about the trainer?” She climbs up on a stool and spreads out her planner. By the color of her folder and the logo she’s doodled on the front, she’s working on a basketball player who just got traded.

“No because I do not want to be encouraged to spend just ten minutes a day in the gym to whip my body into shape.” I barely manage to keep from rolling my eyes at the memory of that particular text.

“Do not tell me he said that to you.” She looks up from her papers with wide-eyed disbelief.

I nod. “I told him I didn’t have a showroom type body so I understood if he wanted to ghost.” I whip out my phone and show her the exact text.

She reads it out loud. “’No worries. You only need ten minutes a day in the gym with me and I’ll have you ready for bikini weather.’ Bikini weather? That’s like nine months away.”

I snort. “Read my reply.”

“I plan to eat my way into a winter coma but thanks for the offer.” She grins and hands me back the phone.

I tuck it away. “I think he’s trolling for new clients, not hookups.”

“Maybe it’s both.”

“It could be but I’m not dating a guy who wants to whip me into shape.”

“Just whip you?” She sticks her tongue out and waggles it in the most disgusting way possible.

We dissolve into cackles, which is how Reese finds us. Reese is an old school Texan. His family can trace its roots back to the Alamo or something like that. I know he’s a big deal because there are no doors in this posh town that are closed to him. His last name opens more doors than the President’s.

His body is chiseled from stone and his face is pretty enough to grace magazine covers—which he has occasionally. I’d have married Reese the first time he jokingly asked but he plays on the other team, much to the regret of the majority of the female population.

“Are y’all having a party without me?”

“Yes, a pity party.” I throw a bar towel which he deftly catches, folds, and slaps on the counter

“Show him the text.”

Obediently I slide my phone down the bar. Reese reads it, his eyebrows shooting into his forehead. “Girl, this is ridiculous. Please tell me you aren’t doing him. He’s not worth your sweat.”

“Am I stupid?”

Reese’s pause is too long. I shoot him a dirty glare. “Don’t answer that.”

“I wasn’t going to say you were stupid. Only that bad sex can lead to foolish decisions.”

“I’m not having bad sex.”

“Oh?” Only one eyebrow this time. “Do tell.”

“There’s nothing to tell.” I turn back to the taps.

“It’s just her and Nick again,” Charlie offers by way of explanation.

“You should either try for a relationship or cut that loose. It’s holding you back,” Reese informs me.

“I know.”

“You—wait, what?” In the mirror behind the bar, I see his face fall. He was gearing up for a big old lecture.

“I know. I’m not sleeping with him anymore. It’s not good for me. We fight and then we fuck and then we both go home hating ourselves. It’s not that Nick’s a bad guy, but we want different things. I want someone more stable. Nick’s not that guy.”

“Nick said just about the same thing to me last night,” Charlie admits. All the tension she was wearing when she came in this morning eases out of her shoulders. “He was telling me that he wanted to have a serious girlfriend. He thinks it would help.”

I turn away so neither of them sees the pain flash in my eyes. Inwardly, I chastise myself. I didn’t deserve to be unhappy about Nick’s choices. We were just using each other. Neither of us wanted a relationship with each other but we couldn’t keep our hands off of one another. The situation wasn’t good—not for Nick and not for me. “Obviously, Nick doesn’t think I’m serious girlfriend material.”

“How do you do that?” Reese asks as I swipe the cloth along the dry and clean counter.

“Do what?”

“Lie to yourself so easily.” His tone is full of disappointment. I guess I don’t blame him. Nick and I’ve been playing this game with each other on and off for a year.

Our promise was that we’d stop screwing around the minute someone found a partner. All we had was sex and now the sex was making us both unhappy.

“I’m not lying to myself. I’m waking up, Reese. I know you and Charlie think Nick and I should pair up but we’ve been dancing around each other for a year. Don’t you think that’s enough time for us to decide whether we have a future together? Don’t you think that’s enough time for him to say, ‘gosh, Lainey, we’re so good together maybe we oughta see if this can be a real relationship.’”

Reese looks worried, as if this wasn’t the direction he wanted the conversation to go. “But you are perfect for each other. Nick loves Cassidy.”

“Exactly,” I respond flatly. “He loves Cassidy. But I can’t spend the rest of my life with a man who just loves my daughter. Don’t I deserve someone who loves me too?”

Charlie and Reese exchange a chagrined glance before Charlie nods emphatically, “Yes, you absolutely do.”

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