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I laugh. Though I’m not ready to have sex with someone else right now, I say, “Okay.
People look at Megan strangely when we walk into the bar. Her pregnant belly is through the door before she is. She doesn’t seem to mind, though. Nathan orders her a cranberry juice at the bar and a Long Island iced tea for me. He’s not drinking either, but I have no intentions of staying sober tonight. I want to drink my problems away and dance all night.
The band is really good and plays a mix of originals and covers of some of my favorite songs. The alcohol hits my blood stream with full force and I’m feeling pretty good. I dance with a really good-looking guy, but I find myself comparing him to Chaucer, who is much taller and thicker through the chest. With Chaucer I would have to stand on my toes to wrap my arms around his neck. This man, while he does smell nice, his scent doesn’t make me automatically smile and swoon. When the man starts getting too close, I back away. I’m just not into it. I apologize to him and leave the dance floor.
Megan is at a table, singing along with the band and guarding our drinks. I drain my glass and I’m ready for another.
“You guys want anything?” I yell above the music.
“Nothing for me,” Megan says, swaying as the music shifts to a slower song. She’s adorable, all big and pregnant and dancing. Her husband thinks so too. He can’t keep his hands off of her. I’m jealous. I want what they have. It hurts to watch them.
“Me neither,” Nathan says. “Actually, I’m getting tired. I think I should probably get home.”
“Yeah, me too,” Megan says.
I laugh. “You two aren’t fooling me. I know exactly what you two are going home to do.”
Megan giggles. “Busted.”
“You two go enjoy the rest of your night. I’m not quite ready to leave yet. I’ll find my own way home.”
“Are you sure?” Megan says with concern. “You seemed really upset today. I don’t want to leave you alone.”
“I’m fine. I’m actually having fun for a change.” It’s not true but I don’t want her to worry about me. “If I go home now, I’ll just sulk the rest of the night.”
“Okay, but if you need anything, you just let me know. And text when you get home so I know you’re all right.”
“I will.”
She hugs me. When she pulls away she has a smile on her face. “And no calling in sick with a hangover. I can’t get through the workday without you.”
“I’ll be there, hangover and all. Nothing a few aspirin and a thermos of water won’t cure.”
She looks skeptical. “We’ll see about that.”
When they leave, I head toward the bar to get myself another drink. People bump into me. I’m like a ping-pong ball being tossed around, but it doesn’t really bother me. My mind is somewhere else. Back in that room at the club. A small and happy universe of its own, until reality shattered the dream. I hate that I can’t keep him out of my thoughts.
About halfway to the bar I stop dead in my tracks. Blinking, I try to clear my vision. Did that one Long Island iced tea get me so drunk I’m starting to seeing things? I know I’m a lightweight, but I’ve never hallucinated before. I rub my eyes—probably smearing my eye makeup all over my face—but it’s not a hallucination or a mirage. Sitting at the bar, with another man, is Chaucer.
I scramble to hide around the corner.
The man he’s with is attractive with light hair and dark eyes. Both men have a similar build and could be runway models for Calvin Klein. But all I can focus on is Chaucer. They’re deep in conversation, talking over tumblers of what looks like whiskey neat. Women surround them and toss glances their way, but the two men are deep in conversation and aren’t paying attention to anyone around them. I wonder if that’s the man who called Chaucer while we were together. Chaucer has that same strained look on his face as he did when he was on the phone.
I move to get a closer look, but when I do, I bump into a woman by the bar and knock her drink out of her hand. Glass shatters on the ground and people scatter to get away from it. When I look back up at Chaucer, he’s not on his stool. I scan the crowd and see that he’s heading my way. I don’t think he saw me, but I can’t risk it. I dip around the corner again. When I peek around to take another look, he’s heading straight toward me.
Shit.
I quickly make my way into the bathroom. As soon as I shut the door behind me I spot the urinals, and I realize I’ve taken cover in the men’s bathroom. Shit! This is probably where he’s heading. My heart is a jackhammer pounding in my ears and I feel sickened by the floral scent of urinal cakes. Men aren’t the cleanest bunch and I’m afraid to touch anything around me.
