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I’m about two seconds away from texting Grace when she walks through the front door of the bar. About fucking time.

I haven’t seen her since yesterday morning, the morning after the wedding.

She’s still in her work clothes, but her hair is down and swishing around her shoulders as she walks in.

A feminine screech echoes through the bar behind her, and she turns to look over her shoulder.

“We’re finally here!” Diane’s with her, and my expression falls. I don’t understand how the two of them are friends. I stay behind the bar and move to the far left, where Grace usually sits and where the dishwasher is. My eyes flicker up and I watch the two of them as I get to work. Diane stumbles slightly and talks a bit too loud. A few customers turn to watch them walk in, but then they go right back to what they were doing before.

“I love this place,” Diane says, dragging Grace by the hand. Grace lets her, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear and seemingly not wanting to come over to me. I don’t like it, and I don’t understand it in the least.

Diane’s quick to sit on the barstool at the far end. Grace’s stool.

I don’t pay her any attention, waiting for Grace to look at me. When she finally does, I can see the same worry there that was on her face at the wedding before she looks away again. That sick feeling of anxiety washes through me. What the hell do I need to do to make her happy?

Make it official.

I grab a glass and wipe it down with a drying cloth as Grace takes a seat.

“Hey there,” I speak up, waiting for her eyes to look back at me.

“Hey,” her voice is soft. She desperately needs more. She needs a label. My body heats at the thought, but if that’s what it takes, I’ll give it to her. I’ll make it real and let the world know. Ever since the wedding, they’ve all been pushing me anyway.

I open my mouth to say something to put her at ease, but Diane speaks up, leaning forward and tapping the bar.

“We’re getting wasted tonight,” she says, already far more drunk than Grace. I cock a brow at her.

“Is that so?” My eyes dart back to Grace as she sets her purse down on the bar.

“Can we have two drink specials, please?” Diane asks, taking my attention again.

“That what you want, sweetheart?” I ask Grace. I hold those doe eyes when she finally looks back at me. “Whatever you want, it’s yours.” I don’t think I’ve ever said truer words.

“Yeah,” she says absently. I watch her swallow as she looks down at her clutch. It’s awkward, and I don’t like it. I don’t know what happened between yesterday and today. Whatever it is, I need to fix it.

“Thank you!” Diane practically yells, bouncing in her seat. It takes me a moment to realize she’s talking about the beers. Right.

I scratch the back of my head as I head to the cooler and get their drinks. I could fucking use one about now, too.

I grab two beers with one hand, the glass bottles clinking together and quickly pop the tops off.

“Charlie!” a customer calls out to me. I wave back, giving them a tight smile but then walk up to James and brush my shoulder against his.

“Take care of them,” I instruct, and he follows my eyes to the customer.

“You got it,” he says, already moving.

I know I have a rep with these customers. All of them really. But right now, I need time with Grace. Something’s not right and I’m not waiting on closing time to put that smile on her face.

I pass Diane the beer and then set Grace’s in front of her, but I don’t let go. When she tries to grab it, I pull it away, making her tilt her head and smile softly.

I let her take it the second time. “How’s work?” I ask her, and she finally lightens up some.

“I got a promotion,” she answers me with a bit of happiness that makes the nerves settle.

“That’s fucking fantastic,” I tell her as I toss the caps to the beer in the trash can. “Congrats, sweetheart.”

She takes a sip of her beer, still looking a bit nervous.

“You okay-” I start to ask her, but Diane chips in.

“It’s really crazy, too. We were sure one of our other coworkers was going to take that job,” Diane shakes her head, a look of bewilderment on her face before taking a drink.

I look back to Grace, who’s watching Diane with a small frown.

“I gotta go to the bathroom real quick,” Grace doesn’t look me in the eyes as she slips off the stool. The air between us is thick and it makes my stomach stir with unease. I don’t know what’s wrong with her, but I’ll find out tonight once everyone leaves. Whatever it is, I’ll make it better for her. A sick feeling in my gut is telling me that it’s me. Us. But I ignore it. We’re going to be fine.

I pick up one of the tumblers from the rack and wipe it down before setting it in the clean section and moving to the next glass as Diane switches seats, moving to Grace’s spot.

My eyes flick up to her, and I give her a tight smile. I think about asking her if everything’s alright with Grace, but I keep my mouth shut, just listening to the sounds of the busy bar.

“So what are you doing tonight?” Diane asks, twirling her hair around her finger. She gives me a seductive smile, and I’m not sure where it’s coming from. She knows I’m with Grace. My brows pinch as I think about what to tell her.

Grace. My intentions are to be doing Grace tonight. All night long, if I have any say in the matter.

“Just going home,” I answer her tightly. I decide to stay neutral and I assume it’s because Diane’s drunk that she’s acting like this.

“You need company?” she asks.

“I have Grace,” I bite out the response and make a move to leave, not liking that I’m in this position at all, but she grabs my hand.

“Not anymore,” she says and her answer makes my heart pound. I turn to look at her, not saying a damn thing or changing my expression.

“I mean, she told me it was all fake and she was never really into you like that,” Diane says in a low voice, her hand at the neck of the bottle, tilting it on the bar top. She whispers, leaning in closer. “I get it. You got what you needed from her, and she went slumming for a minute.” She pulls back to take a swig of her beer.

My heart feels like a knife’s gone through it, slowly twisting and then being pulled out. She was never into me. That’s all I keep thinking.

I move slowly, grabbing a rag from under the bar and wiping down the lacquered wood mindlessly.

“So I was thinking, if you’re looking for something tonight-”

“I’m good,” my words come out hard and maybe harsh. I don’t care though. Diane says something else, but I can’t hear anything over the sound of the blood rushing in my ears as I walk away, right to the back of the bar.

My heart’s hammering, my blood’s boiling. I feel tense and ready to break.

It was fake.

She never wanted me.

I’m a fucking fool.