Greg

For some reason, I kept expecting things to get easier.

I wasn’t exactly sure why—they’d been on a steady decline for several days, longer, if I were being honest with myself. And over the course of three hours, they kept speeding downhill.

Seeing Annie walk through the door left me first breathless, then seething. The sight of her at the table in my line of vision was the sweetest torture; sweet because it was her, and she was dazzling in that dress, torture because the smile she wore had nothing to do with me. It was for the bastard at her elbow. And he didn’t leave her side for any longer than he had to.

I wouldn’t have either, had I been him.

The night moved on as time did, with no care for the ache in my chest or the anger buried in its center. It was nearing eleven, the bar packed to the seams with people in costumes. They had really shown up for the occasion, most of them dressed in stunning gowns and finery. Of course, Cam threw a couple of legendary regency costume parties—among a host of other costume parties and singles’ nights—every year, so people committed to springing for the good stuff.

I’d bought my own costume, as had most everyone at the bookstore. Before the first historical party, Cam had even given cravat-tying lessons. I’d laughed about it at the time, but—no lie—once I had seen how the girls at the bar reacted to that strip of linen around my neck, I’d found myself fully on board.

Cam had only said I told you so once.

But that night, Annie was set apart from everyone else in the room. I could imagine her in a ballroom long ago, her face lit by candlelight, her gloved hand in the hook of my elbow.

I could imagine her anywhere but here, with him. That reality was the one thing I couldn’t find a way to suffer.

Fortunately, we were busy, and keeping a wall of people between us seemed to be my only defense. I was flanked by Beau and Harrison, each in their own costumes, the three of us like veritable gentlemen, if it weren’t for our filthy mouths. Though we always found ourselves speaking a little more eloquently in cravats and collars.

I tossed a coaster down, offering my bartender smile as one customer moved, and another stepped forward. But the smile spread genuinely when I saw that it was Elle.

“Good evening, Miss Daschle,” I said. “Might I offer you something to drink?”

She laughed. “Thanks, but no. I was actually about to leave, but I wanted to swing by to see you first.” Her face grew curious and sincere. “How are you?”

I drew in a breath and kept my smile fixed. “Fine.”

“Because Annie isn’t.”

“Are you sure of that? She seems like she’s doing just great.”

“Well, looks can be deceiving. She told me what happened.”

With nothing left to deny, I gave up the fight. “I don’t know, Elle. I’m not sure what to do.”

“You’re angry with her, I know, but—”

“I’m not angry. Not with her. I’m hurt, but not by her. The entire thing is my own doing.”

She frowned. “I don’t understand.”

“I don’t much either.” I sighed. “Annie didn’t do anything wrong, and it’s not her fault she’s ended up in the position she’s in. I knew better than to get close to her, but…well, I couldn’t help myself. You know, I think I knew from the very first moment I saw her that it would all end in tears,” I said with futility. “And now, she’s with him, and that’s what it is.”

Elle’s eyes were heavy with sadness that weighed down the corners of her lips in a frown. “You won’t talk to her at all?”

I shook my head. “I can’t trust I’ll keep my feelings to myself anymore. Not now that she knows. I can’t pretend anymore, Elle.”

At that, she nodded with understanding behind her eyes and reached for my hand where it rested on the bar. “I suppose that’s fair. And I hope it gets easier, Greg. For both of you.”

“So do I.”

We said our goodbyes, and with a parting squeeze of my hand, she turned and walked away.

I blew out a breath and took the next drink order, and within a couple of customers, I had compartmentalized as best I could.

Until I tossed a coaster that read All is fair in love and war and looked up to find Will in front of me.

He looked ridiculous in a fucking top hat, his smile smug and eyes cruel. And I wondered just how the hell he’d landed a girl like Annie.

I reminded myself that he was a spectacular liar—that was how—which didn’t make me feel better.

“Tall Grey Goose and water,” he instructed curtly.

I said nothing, just reached for a glass and scooped ice in.

He half-turned, looking back at Annie. “She’s beautiful, isn’t she?”

I set the glass on the bar and turned for the vodka.

“That dress was practically made for her. Maybe, if I’m lucky, I’ll see it in a heap on my floor tonight.”

Hot coals burned in my belly, the steam climbing up my throat. I poured the vodka. “Maybe, if you keep talking, I’ll see you in a heap on the sidewalk.”

Will laughed. “I told you not to get in my way. I told you not to give me a reason to twist the knife. But you didn’t listen. Can’t say I’m all that surprised.” He picked up the coaster and held it up in display. “How appropriate.”

I picked up the soda gun with a hand shaking with desire to grab him by the throat, unfulfilled with the task of topping the glass off with water.

Will Bailey was not worth losing my job over.

“She made her choice,” he said when I didn’t respond.

“Yes, she did.” I set the drink in front of him.

“Put it on my tab.” He picked up the drink before stepping back, that horrible smile of his hitting me like a spear in the breastbone.

He disappeared, and the next person moved into his place to order a drink, so I accommodated them, all while attempting to calm myself down with little luck.

What I needed was to leave, but there was nowhere to go. I was caught in a cage of mahogany and overhead lights, a spotlight on my discomfort, lighting me up for the whole world to see.

A moment later, the crowd opened up, and I saw Annie sitting at the table, her lips smiling at Will and her gloved hand around her drink.

The drink I’d just poured.

The nuclear explosion that went off between my ears was deafening.

I turned on my heel and flew out from behind the bar, weaving through the crowd toward her, stopping only once I reached the table.

Shock registered on her face when I snatched the drink from her hands and smelled it.

I turned on Will. “Are you fucking kidding me?” I growled, slamming the drink back on the table as I stepped around it and toward him.

He took a step back, the superior look on his face washed out, leaving him stupefied.

“Get out,” I said through my teeth. “Get the fuck out of my bar.”

Annie hooked her arms in one of mine and pulled, “Greg, stop!”

I whirled around, arching over her.

She shrank under the weight.

“Don’t,” I ground out from behind clenched teeth. “Do not.”

“Listen—” Will started.

I whirled back on him. “You gave a drink to an underage girl in my bar. I don’t have to listen to a goddamn word you have to say. Get the fuck out. Now!”

He jumped at the impact of the last word and glanced at Annie, reaching for her hand.

When she moved to step around me, I moved with her, keeping my body between them.

“She is not going with you.”

“That’s not for you to decide,” she shot.

I turned, pinning her with a glare I felt into the depths of my chest. “You are on the clock. And if you leave with him, you’re fired.”

Color rose in her cheeks, her eyes shining with angry tears. “Oh, so now you want to be my boss?”

I didn’t respond, only held her still with my glare.

“Goddamn it, Greg,” she whispered but didn’t move to follow.

“Let her go,” Will said, his shoulders square.

“No.”

His eyes darted to her. “Come on, Annie.” He extended his hand.

“I’ll call you later,” she said miserably.

Fury flashed across his face. “If you stay here with him, we’re through. You don’t need this fucking bullshit minimum-wage job anyway.”

“Watch it, asshole,” I warned.

“You’re both assholes!” she shouted, tears clinging to her lashes. “Screw both of you, and screw your ultimatums.”

“Annie—” he started, but she cut him off.

“If that’s how you feel, then go. I’m through with this, through with you. Through with your jealousy and through with the arguing. I’m through.”

She took a furious breath that shuddered in her chest, a sob fueled by betrayal and hurt, a sob that sent a flash of rage through me, tightening my fists at my sides.

“Get out of here, Bailey. Because if I put my hands on you to make you, I swear to God, I won’t be able to stop.”

Will stood very still, his eyes on her, then me, then her again, as if weighing his options. When he came to his senses, it was with a tug on the hem of his vest and the straightening of his back.

“Your loss,” he said, his cold eyes on Annie.

“Do not show your face here again. If you walk through those doors, I will have you thrown out. Do you hear me?”

After a long, strained stare, he nodded once and turned.

The only people who had heard were those adjacent to us, and the party went on undisturbed but for our little island of blame.

When I turned to her, tears spilled from her accusing eyes.

“I cannot believe that just happened,” she spat. “I cannot believe you just did that.”

Every muscle in my body was flexed and furious. “You can’t believe? Do you realize we could lose our liquor license? Did you happen to forget you were on the clock and working? I should fire you on the spot.”

“Well then, why don’t you?” she cried, her voice full of contempt.

“You and I both know why.”

I turned to walk away, and she didn’t say a word more.

The rest of the night was a blur. Somehow, I managed to get back behind the bar and spent the next few hours in a haze marked by automatic movements—smile, pour, nod. And then it was last call, and the night wound down.

The crowd thinned, then emptied, leaving only the employees. Ruby bussed her tables while Jett and Annie cleaned up their things, running the box of name tags and dance cards and tablecloths back. We were breaking down the bar when Annie appeared in front of me, the bartop between us.

“I’m finished,” she said quietly but not gently.

I didn’t look at her. “Good. Clock out and sit down.”

She took a breath through her nose, the sound frustrated. “I would like to leave, please.”

“You will sit and wait for me to finish. We have things to discuss, and when that’s done, I’ll put you in a cab.”

“I am not a child!”

“Then stop acting like one.”

I looked up when she made another sound, this one somewhere between a gasp and a sob. The hurt on her face was nearly the end of me. Because that hurt written in the soft curves of her cheeks, the brackets on either side of her lips and the furrow between her brows told me she felt every bit the child I’d accused her of being.

I couldn’t take it anymore.

I stormed out from behind the bar with Beau and Harrison watching me, exchanging glances when I rounded the corner. The second Annie was in grabbing distance, I did just that, hooking her upper arm with my hand to drag her into the back.

What I had to say didn’t need an audience.

I let her go once we were in the depths of the store, my chest heaving as I looked down at her. “I cannot fucking believe you did that. I cannot believe you put me in that position.”

“It was just a drink!”

“Jesus Christ, Annie. One drink could cost Rose tens of thousands of dollars in fines and the store’s license. And you don’t even drink! This was his doing, not yours. And don’t you dare lie and tell me that was your idea.”

More tears. So many tears.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I…I just didn’t think it would be a big deal. He said no one would know, and I’d never had a drink, and—”

“This isn’t you. None of this is you. It reeks of that son of a bitch.”

“Greg, you banned him from the bar, and you kept me here, held me hostage when you should have let me go. It wasn’t right, how you handled things. It wasn’t,” she said, angry sobs hiccuping in her chest.

And my own anger won over, bursting out of me in waves. “This is my bar, and I don’t want him here, not after tonight. You’ll do what I say because you are my employee. You’ll follow my rules because I am your boss.”

Her sadness shifted to furious accusation. “That’s bullshit, and you know it. Because I don’t think this is about him so much as it’s about you.”

My breath kicked out of my lungs. “That is not what this is about.”

“You’re a goddamn liar. You would have found any excuse to kick him out and keep me here. You would have found any reason to keep me away from him. Well, it’s over now. Are you happy? Are you fucking happy?” Her voice broke, her face bent and shining with tears.

I rushed her, grabbing her arms, pulling her into me, desperate and overcome and frustrated beyond measure. “You don’t understand, not what you want, not what he wants from you, and not how I feel.” My breath trembled, my eyes searching the depths of her emerald irises, the ring of gold flashing. “You don’t see that he was hurting you, chipping away at you sliver by sliver. You don’t see that I”—need, desire, love—“want you. You can’t see it, even when it’s right in front of you.”

Her face softened with understanding and surprise, her lips parted, as if a thousand words waited somewhere just beyond her tongue, her hands on my chest and chin tipped up. And I felt myself leaning, felt her weight in my arms, felt her breath on my lips.

And I let her go. God knew how, but I let her go.

One step back wasn’t enough, and it was too much.

I turned and rushed out of the back and into the store, empty of everyone but Beau. When he looked up, I tossed my keys to him.

“Lock it up.”

He frowned as he caught them. “Shit, man, I have a date.”

“It’ll have to wait.”

“Where are you going?” he called after me.

“Anywhere but here.”

I pulled open the door, welcoming the chill, hoping it would cool my anger.

With every step, I knew I was just as wrong as I was right. With every footfall, I pictured her face, etched with pain by my own hand. I’d left her there alone. I’d treated her unfairly.

It only took a block before I came to a stop in the middle of the sidewalk.

It wasn’t that I hadn’t been justified, but I’d been harder, crueler than I had to be. I could have let her go. I could have dealt with the whole thing tomorrow. And she was right; if it had been anyone but her, I would have handled it differently.

But it was Annie, and where she was concerned, I found I couldn’t be rational.

I turned around with a sigh and headed back to the store, my anger ebbed to expose the shores of guilt. When I reached the door, I found it still unlocked, though the store was abandoned, everyone gone except Beau. I didn’t see him, but I could hear him whistling.

My goal was singular.

Past the bar I went, past the hall where the office was and into the back of the building.

I found her in nearly the same spot as I’d left her, sitting on a stack of empty crates with her face buried in her hands and her soft sobs echoing off the concrete walls.

Annie looked up at the noise of my footfalls, almost immediately looking away, like she’d just been readying herself to leave. She swiped at her tears and sniffled, her eyes down.

And with a bruised and bloodied heart, I dropped to my knees in front of her and took her hands in mine, meeting her eyes with remorse and repentance.

“Annie, I’m sorry.”

Her chin quivered, the weakly tamped tears springing from her eyes again. “No, Greg, I—”

“Please, let me apologize,” I said gently.

She nodded once.

“You’re right—I can’t be reasonable when it comes to you. And even though I had to act, I didn’t have to act like that. I have a hundred excuses, but you know them all, and none of them matter. So I’ll only beg for your forgiveness. I never wanted to hurt you; I only want your happiness. I just haven’t been able to sort out how to balance your happiness and my own.”

“Of course I forgive you,” she said, though she still cried, an unending stream that pained me to no end.

“God, please don’t cry anymore. I don’t want to make you cry anymore,” I begged, reaching for her face, tipping it so she would meet my eyes. “I’m sorry.”

She nodded again. “So am I. I…I was wrong, and I screwed up b-b-bad. I’m so sorry.”

A sob broke out of her, and I rose enough to pull her into my chest, slipping my fingers into her curls.

“Shh, it’s okay. It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not,” she said against my lapel. “I’ve ruined everything. Your friendship. My reputation.” She sniffled and pulled back. “Your coat.”

I chuckled and looked down. “It’ll survive. And so will you. And so will I.”

She tried to smile, her brows still together, but her tears were dry for the moment.

I stood. “Come on, let’s get you home. It’s almost three.”

She sighed and stood too, looking as weary and worn as I felt. “All right.”

We walked out of the back in silence, and when I stepped into the store, I stopped dead.

All the lights were off, and the metal gate in front of the door was down.

“No, no, no, no. NO,” I muttered as I hurried to the door to make sure that, against all odds, I wasn’t seeing what I was seeing.

Once confirmed, I turned to Annie with numb hands.

“We’re locked in.”