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“I’m sorry,” I tell him again. “I’m sorry I didn’t do better, but I’m only a phone call away. If you need anything.”
I know he won’t. Daire would never admit that he needed something from me. But it makes me feel better to say it anyway. I walk to the elevator and wait.
He watches me go.
All the way until the doors close.
43
Lola
“Man this placeis the cat’s meow today,” Mellie observes.
“I know.” I pause to take a breath. “I’ve been running all day.”
Gatsby’s Place is doing really well. So well in fact that I now have a total of four employees and plans for expansion early next year. But at present, I’m just trying to get through Christmas and the ad campaign that has the bell on the door chiming every five seconds.
“Have time for a coffee break?” Mellie asks.
I glance up at the cash register. Britt and Bonnie seem to have everything under control, but I still feel a bit guilty leaving them when it’s this busy.
“Maybe just a quick one,” I tell her. “I should really be here if they need anything.”
It’s funny because when I was trying to help Daire through his rehabilitation, the shop was the last thing on my mind. I let the employees handle the customers, and Mellie stepped in to help with the business side of things. But now that I’m back, it’s become my sole obsession again.
“You’re working too much,” Mellie says as soon as we get our coffees at the shop down the street.
“I’m just highly focused.”
She picks at her blueberry muffin, squishing the pieces before stuffing them into her mouth. “Still no word from Daire, huh?”
I swallow a big gulp of coffee, and it burns all the way down. “Nope.”
It’s been two months. Not a text. A phone call. Nothing. And I still feel like I’ve abandoned him most of the time. If it wasn’t for Grazi giving me progress reports every few days, I would have been back at his door asking how I could help.
“Grazi says he’s doing well,” I tell Mellie.
According to her, he’s actually letting the nurse help now. And he’s one hundred percent focused on his rehabilitation. He hasn’t looked at a drop of alcohol or even asked for one. And she claims his mood is better too, though I’d probably have to see it to believe it. It should make me happy, but it only makes me feel worse. If his mood improved after I left, then there’s just one conclusion I can draw from that.
“I bet he misses you,” Mellie says. “You should check in with him.”
I lean over and steal a chunk of her muffin. “I don’t think so. I don’t want to distract him or upset him.”
“The only distraction would be your magnificent tits,” she jokes.
I roll my eyes and burn my tongue on another sip of coffee. “Gah, why do they always make it so hot?”
Mellie gleefully takes a sip of her cold brew. “I don’t have that problem.”
I chew on my fingernail and glance around the room. Everyone is out preparing for the holiday season, and I can barely muster the energy for the festive spirit. My smile is plastic when I tell the customers to have happy holidays, and inside I feel empty.
I do miss Daire. But when you don’t know if those feelings are reciprocated, it’s time to let it go.
Mellie sighs and tells me I’m boring. I toss a crumb at her across the table and tell her I know.
“Still going home for Christmas?” I ask.
She nods. Home for Mellie is in Ohio, which means she won’t be spending the holiday season with me either.
