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I wipe up the majority of the mess with a bar towel, knowing I’ll have to do better, then grab the mop.
“Hey, you okay?” Liam asks from a few feet away at the bar, the hum of conversations unable to drown out the sound of worry in his voice.
“I’ll be okay.” That’s just my go-to response any time anyone asks, because I don’t know what else to say. I am not okay, but I don’t want to get fired because I let my personal life interfere with my ability to do my job.
The customer at the end of the bar extends a sympathetic glance my way as I slide his drink across the counter. With every motion, I feel the weight of their gazes, heavy with the knowledge of my public humiliation. Maybe they don’t know, maybe I’m fooling myself, but as my face burns red-hot, I can’t help but feel everyone has seen the video and knows my ex didn’t think I was worth being faithful to. I can't escape the viral betrayal, it’s like a digital ghost haunting every corner of my life.
“Let me help you with that,” Liam says, but I shake my head, forcing a smile that I really don’t feel.
“I've got it.” I can clean this mess. I can’t clean up my life. At least this brings some cold comfort. I mop up the spill, then realize I need to get under the lip of the counter and make my way in with a towel, my movements mechanical.
The night drags on, each moment a reminder of how far off course my life has veered. Walker, usually so composed and authoritative, doesn’t even seem to notice my inability to function like a normal human. It’s like my hands have given up on life, and my body is too checked out to care. I serve a whiskey sour, but the glass tips, sloshing over the rim and onto a patron's lap.
“I’m so sorry!” I gasp as my face flushes hotter than the surface of the sun.
“Accidents happen,” the soaked customer says, waving off my apologies with a forced chuckle as I offer him a towel to clean up with. Walker's eyes meet mine from across the room, but he says nothing, just gives a subtle nod that feels like mercy. I make another whiskey sour, my movements slow and careful. This time, no accident happens, and I breathe a sigh of relief as I step between the bar and the floor so I can make my way out to the tables to grab another order from a couple in a booth.
As I’m walking, I feel my foot slide on a slick spot and know, for a terrified instant, that I’m going to fall. Not only am I humiliated by public, viral betrayal, now I’m going to fall in a room full of people watching me. My body catches the edge of the bar with a graceless thud. Pain explodes through my ribs as the edge of the counter keeps all of my weight upright. I’d swear I feel a pop, but I think it was just my spine decompressing. Walker's at my side in an instant, his hand steady on my arm.
“Careful.” His voice is gentle, yet somehow still commands all of my attention. But he doesn't question my clumsy night of disasters. Instead, he seems worried, not upset or annoyed.
“Thanks,” I say, breathing out, clutching the edge of the bar as I try to assess if I’m hurt or not. But I don’t have time to be injured, and my bills won’t wait for me to feel better, so I’ve got to keep on keeping on. I have that cushion after being paid for my ideas, but I want that to be savings. Besides, I don’t want to be home alone with my thoughts and memories. No thank you.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Walker sounds concerned, but I can’t look him in the eyes. I nod my head, trying to take a deep breath to calm myself and feeling a twinge of pain.
“I’m fine. I think I’ll have a vodka,” I say, glancing at Liam, who also seems worried, but he nods and fills the shot glass. While I’m not a fan of drinking on the job, I also know that if I don’t relax and right the course of my night, things will get worse.
He passes me the drink as Walker makes his way behind the bar and pulls Liam aside. I’m watching them out of the corner of my eyes as I down the shot. But the drink that’s supposed to steady my nerves betrays me and a single drop splashes into my eye, stinging and blinding me.
“Ow! Damn it!” I blink, letting the tears wash out my eye as my vision blurs. Laughter bubbles around me—some sympathetic, some not.
“You’re having a bad night.” Walker's voice is tinged with something I can't place. Amusement? Concern? A mix of both?
“That’s an understatement.” I feel the heat from his body pressing in close and somehow feel my body relaxing despite the pain.
“Why don’t you go home and get some rest?” he says, but I shake my head.
“I can’t do that.” But it’s not just the pile of bills that worries me. No, I’m much more afraid of sitting alone in an empty apartment, thinking about what I thought my life would look like… and what it really is.
“Then slow down, take a breath. You're not alone here.” Walker’s soft voice surprises me, but just as quickly, he slips back into the role of boss, leaving me to wonder about the man beneath the suit.
My phone rings and I pull it out of my pocket, my heart sinking as I recognize the number. The last person I want to hear from—Chase. I make a hasty exit toward the back door as I answer.
“Hello?” My voice is steady, even though my heartbeat is not.
“Hey, babe, listen—” His voice, once my favorite sound, now feels like having my skin ripped from my body, one long shred at a time.
“Save it,” I say. To my horror, tears fill my eyes and I try to blink them back. He doesn’t get to make me cry. Never again. “I've heard enough of your lies.” Like promising forever. Like stringing me along with talk of marriage and starting a family. Like telling me he loved me.
“Come on, we can work this out,” he says, but the desperation in his tone only fuels my anger.
“I guess she dumped you?” I let out a sharp, bitter sound that’s almost a laugh. “There’s nothing to work out. You humiliated me, Chase. I don’t want you back.” Why do the words feel like a lie? And it hits me, I don’t want him back. I want the idea of what my life was before I found out the truth back. But I want that to be real, and it never was.
“Please, I—”
“Goodbye, Chase.” I cut him off, pressing end button with a force that makes the screen distort.
I shove the device back into my pocket and hurry toward the lady’s room, walking past people with a single-minded focus. Once inside, I lock myself in a stall and let the tears come, hot and fast. I hate that he still has the power to hurt me like this.
