Chapter 27
Ace
"Well, you did it again," my father says, leaning against the bar. He picks up his glass of scotch, and I grab my own. "Closed another deal that everyone said couldn't be done." He smirks at me as I click my glass to his. The both of us are dressed in navy-blue suits and white button-down shirts but with no tie. His black hair turned more salt and pepper than black, his blue eyes just like mine.
I look around the restaurant that is starting to get busier and busier with the dinner crowd. It's attached to the hotel, so it was a no-brainer that we would all celebrate here. A majority of the people standing around the bar are my co-workers. When I got to work on Monday, we got word that one of the top real estate development companies was looking to sell off pieces. It was a huge deal, and after one phone call with my father, who worked in another office, we decided to join forces and see what we could do. So, we got on a plane an hour later, and for the last four days, we've been ironing out all the details. We finally got it done thirty minutes ago, and both offices are meeting for celebratory drinks. "It was a joint effort," I say, picking up my own glass of scotch and bringing it to my lips.
"For someone who just closed the deal of a lifetime," he starts to say, looking around. "You look like shit." I don't know why, but I laugh at how he didn't mince words.
I look over at him and lean against the bar. "It's been a crazy four days." I blame it on the work that we just did. For the past four days, we've been in a conference room going over numbers, fourteen hours a day, but in the back of my head still lingered the last conversation I had with Shelby.
"I'm not supposed to bring this up." It's my father's turn to laugh now. "And your mother will kill me if she finds out I'm even discussing this without her." I shake my head, knowing she probably gave him strict conversation topics. I called them on the way to the airport last week. I didn't give them much information, just that Sheila and I were no more. It was also six o’clock, so they were both sleeping, but I did get an in-detail text from my mother two days later when she got the whole story. I have yet to answer her back, and I know that she is giving me until this weekend before she pounces on me. "But well."
"But well, you have questions," I say to him. "I can only imagine." I put my hands on the bar, waiting for the questions to start.
"Not so many questions because your mother has all of them, and if she finds out that I got the answers before her, it'll be the end of the world." My father is the one who never asks a question. Ever. He is the quiet one, and whatever you tell him stays with him. He will never tell you what he knows. He will never gossip about it. My mother, on the other hand, wants to know everything. And I mean, everything, and then she'll call her cousins or sister and talk about it for hours. "I just want to know you're okay," he says, looking around. "Even though you barely got any sleep this week. Do you look like shit because of Sheila?"
"Actually, it's not the reason," I admit and take a sip of the scotch to think about what else I should say. "I don't think I loved her." He doesn't say anything. He just waits for me to continue my thoughts. "Like, if I think about it really hard. Maybe I thought I did. Maybe it's because I was caught up in the moment." I don't know what else to say.
"Well, if you are sitting here and she's not the reason you look like that." He points at me. "Then I'm going to go out on a limb and say you didn't love her. Maybe you thought you did. Maybe you just got wrapped up in the whole love thing because you thought that it was the next step."
I hang my head now. "She fucked Joseph." I tell him something that I didn't put in the text, but after being away for a week, I have no idea what he’s heard or not. "Imagine finding that out the day of his wedding." I shake my head. "She fucked my best friend. She's probably still fucking him, who knows. Who cares?"
"I heard," he says, shaking his head, and I don't know why I'm surprised.
"Who told you?" I shrug. "I mean, not that it matters."
"She did," he says, and it's my turn to be shocked. "She called us two days after you left. She was sobbing and looking for you." I laugh, grabbing my glass of scotch and finishing it. "Said she did a terrible thing, and all she wants is to talk to you."
"What did you tell her?" I ask him, and he puts his head down.
"I wanted to hang up on her," my father admits, "but your mother, well, she did not take that well and told her to fuck off and go find Jesus." I laugh because my mother isn't religious at all. "I wish that I could say that is all." I wait for him, and he laughs. "But then your mother had time to digest, and well, that didn't go well at all. She called her back and asked her how she could do such a thing and not only that, but how she thought she could call her and she would help find you. That ended with a go fuck yourself."
"Oh my," I say, shaking my head. "Well, that was." I laugh. "I haven't spoken to her since."
"How is Shelby taking it?" he asks, and just her name makes my stomach do flips, and I'm afraid to say anything when it comes to her, so I just shrug. "Your mother called her mother when she found out." My father finishes his scotch. "Let's just say I had to calm the whole 'let's destroy them' talk."
I laugh, and we are interrupted by a couple of people who come over and congratulate us, and my head goes to Shelby. I wonder if my mother called her to see if she's okay. I wonder if she is okay. I wonder if she misses me like I miss her. I wonder if she dreams about the week we had together like I do every fucking night. Dinner is a blur as we all eat, and everyone tries to make small talk.
I'm standing at the bar waiting to get a bottle of water when Jenna, my co-worker, comes over. "What are we drinking?" she asks with a smile on her face. She stands beside me with her hands on the bar.
"I'm getting a bottle of water," I tell her as soon as the bartender comes over. "What do you want?"
"We are going to have two shots of tequila." She holds up her fingers, and I just shake my head. "Two," she tells the bartender, and he turns away.
"I'm not drinking that," I tell her, laughing. She turns to look at me now.
"We're celebrating." She cocks her hip as she leans into the bar. I just shake my head and grab the bottle of water when the server comes back. "Come on." She holds her hand out for me. "Just one."
"Fine," I concede. "But it's a one and done," I say, and she just smiles big. We take the shot, and she sucks on her piece of lime.
"So, I heard through the grapevine," she starts to say, and I put the glass down on the bar. "That you’re single."
Well, it was only a matter of time before it got to my co-workers. "You heard right." I don't know why, but I feel like she's gotten closer to me.
"I'm not going to lie." She pushes her blond hair over her shoulder, leaning over and touching my hand. "I'm not upset about it." Her hand lingers on mine for longer than it should. She looks around now. "I'm staying in room eight fourteen," she says, getting closer to me. "If you want to come by and talk." She takes another step, and this time, there is no space between us. "Or not talk."
She turns around and walks back to the table, grabbing her jacket and purse.
I look down at my hand and then look back up again to see that she is walking out of the restaurant and headed to the hotel. I look around and see my dad talking with someone else and just hold up my hand to him. He nods as he continues the conversation.
I walk out of the restaurant to the elevators pressing the button for up. The doors open, and I step in, looking at the numbers and pressing it before the doors close.