Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 88064 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88064 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
At that moment, Dawn appears from the bathroom with red-rimmed eyes. She keeps her gaze focused on the floor and heads over to a table in the corner to collect empty glasses and bottles. My heart aches, knowing that the song I chose was one that brought back bad memories for her.
But underneath it all, I find that I want to know everything about this girl who’s stumbled into our lives and made such an impact already.
9
DAWN
I busy myself, clearing the unoccupied tables of glasses and bottles, using the cloth I have tucked into my apron to wipe up any mess. Taking deep, controlled breaths, I try to push down the emotion that welled up when Thomas began to play Mom’s favorite song.
I couldn’t deal with hearing Iris, especially when sung in such a beautiful, acoustic tone. Somehow, the words coming from Thomas’s lips were just too much for me to handle. It shouldn’t be this hard. Not after so many years. Grief is something that is supposed to hold a person in its clutches for a year, or a couple of years at most. Time is supposed to heal, isn’t it? It’s an old adage for a reason.
But it doesn’t get any easier.
The things that make me remember are the same, and the feelings are just as raw. Maybe there’s something wrong with me that I can’t get past this. Maybe I’m just never going to be able to hear Mom’s favorite songs without breaking down. Maybe it’s just something I have to accept.
Thomas noticed. Of course he did. There’s no way that he missed the way I reacted. He’s a perceptive guy. Most creatives are. And even though I’ve patted my face with cold water, my eyes are still bloodshot, and my heart is heavy enough to make smiling impossible.
The happiness I usually wear, like a shield, has cracked.
The weight of panic bows my back and leadens my heart.
An image of Mom in her last days haunts me. Hollowed eyes, gray skin. She didn’t look like my momma anymore. Holding her hand was like grasping onto a mannequin.
"Can we order?" a woman asks as I pass.
"Sure," I say, forcing a flicker of a smile. "What can I get you?"
"Two Cloud 9’s," she says. "And a bottle of water."
"Coming right up."
At the bar, Thomas is talking to Jared, but they pause when I approach. Addressing Lachlan, I tell him the order, and rest the empties on the bar. Logan clears the glasses and tosses the empty bottles into the trash, his eyes lingering on my face a little longer than is comfortable.
There’s a quietness about the group that is in stark contrast to the easy chatter of a few minutes ago.
I don’t like it, but I don’t know what to say.
"You gonna play something?" Lachlan asks Thomas.
Thomas hesitates, not responding as though he wants to delay the inevitable. Over on the stage, he won’t be able to watch me in the way that he has been. Maybe he’s worried he’ll choose another song that will set me off. Everything feels brittle and sharp.
Before he makes his way back to perform, he glances at me with worry. I quickly look away, not ready to face his scrutiny. Not ready to face anyone’s scrutiny.
For the rest of the evening, I manage to keep my emotions stuffed down. I find the strength to pull myself together and smile again. I chat with customers, finding some fellow Americans who bring a welcome sense of home to our conversation. Logan encourages me to make cocktails to practice, although I’m certain I got them perfect on the first try.
Thomas finishes his set and Cooper takes his place behind the decks to DJ a more upbeat mix to the rowdier late evening crowd.
Jared and Joshua maintain their easygoing attitudes and Logan flirts whenever I approach the bar. Lachlan is the most reserved of them all, and Thomas, the one who seems to hold on to his concern for me the longest.
By the end of the evening, I’m feeling better, but there is still a lingering grayness beneath the surface.
"You did great tonight," Lachlan says, as I finish wiping the last table at closing time. "If you want, you can take a shift behind the bar."
"If you need me to, I will. But I like talking to customers. I’m happy to do either."
He nods, pleased at my flexibility.
"I’m going to hit the sack," I say.
"Thanks for tonight."
I wave at the group of men gathered behind the bar, wondering what Jared and Joshua are thinking. Do they expect me to invite them back to my room again? Do I even want to?
The sex was incredible, and I really like them, but a repeat of earlier would be dangerous. My emotions are raw, and raw emotions combined with sex leads to feels. What I need is to keep everything easy and light. Live each day like it could be my last.