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And she was the one who picked up the slack around here all those times when my ex-wife would run out on me and leave me alone with the baby. She picked up late shifts, weekend shifts, night shifts. Bartender, waitress, manager. She jumped in wherever she was needed, and nailed it. Hell, she excelled at any job around the bar.
She never complained. She always had my back and was great at her job.
For six years, she was my best employee and everyone’s favorite bartender.
And then, she was gone.
She quit to go on that damn TV show and my whole life has been a dumpster fire ever since.
Head down, Nolan. Just keep your head down.
But every time I try to look away, I get lured back to the television screen. I watch as Inez swallows hard. Her crystal blue gaze bounces off to the side. It’s like she can’t quite decide what to do with the marriage proposal currently hanging heavily in the air.
After a long moment, her eyes swivel back to the eager man kneeled before her. Still looking unsure of herself, she tucks the silky caramel strands of her hair behind her ears. “Y-yes…” she squeaks out.
And that single word is the dagger that pierces my gut for the hundredth time this week.
Fuck.
Meanwhile, the bar goes up in wild cheers.
The women are clutching their chests and blotting their eyes and sobbing into their onion rings. The men are pounding the tabletops and stomping their feet as Vance slides the enormous rock onto Inez’s trembling hand.
Again—fuck.
Across the bar, my eyes meet Karli’s. My younger sister shoots me a worried glance from where she’s cozily tucked against her husband, Mason’s side.
I roll my eyes.
For the past week, my siblings have been overbearing as hell. Ever since this episode was first released, Karli and our four brothers have been treating me like a grenade that might spontaneously combust at any minute.
Hell—I just might. But I’m not about to admit that out loud.
Unwilling to acknowledge my sister’s pity, I bring my attention back to the TV screen. Vance is wiping manufactured tears from his eyes as he triumphantly rises to his feet and yanks Inez into a hug.
My chest officially catches on fire when the obnoxious Hollywood fucker leans in, mouth all puckered up like a frog’s asshole, ready to kiss Inez on the lips.
But at the very last second she turns, giving him her cheek and a small, forced smile.
I can’t help but smirk to myself. Atta girl.Small mercies, y’know?
Vance grins like the clueless jackass he is and squeezes Inez tighter. “I’m going to whisk you away on my private jet and show you off to the world,” he promises her as sentimental music animates the background. “I can’t wait to walk the red carpet with you on my arm. And I’m going to take you on my yacht. You’ll look so good laid out on the deck, in the middle of the Mediterranean, wearing a little string bikini with that cute little butt of yours.” He emits a slimy chuckle.
The bar chuckles along. Like this misogynistic bullshit is supposed to be funny.
The dude is a clown and this whole damn television production is a circus.
Inez stares blankly at Mr. Hollywood. She’s still sporting that plastic smile. “This is all so…exciting.”
Except she doesn’t look excited at all. She looks queasy, to be honest.
He opens his mouth and another never-ending jet stream of bullshit flies out. “You haven’t seen exciting yet, baby,” he tells her. “We have our whole fairytale ahead of us. You’ll steal the spotlight next to me at the MET Gala and at the film festival in Cannes…”
And on and on and on.
By this point, most of the women in the room are bawling shamelessly, snotty noses and runny mascara everywhere, passing the napkin dispensers from table to table.
I swear, this show is the reason we keep running out of napkins. I make a note of that on my order form.
