Sweet Nothing (22 page)

“Josh—”

“I said pour me another one.”

She shook her head, placing an empty glass in front of me.

I spent the evening drowning in guilt and then being mad about it. I shouldn’t feel bad. I was right. He shouldn’t have confronted Dr. Rosenberg. I’m an adult. I could have handled it!
What the hell was he thinking?

But I hadn’t handled it. Josh had told me a dozen times my friendship with the doctor bothered him. I should have addressed it. But Josh had made his choice. This was my career he was messing with. How could I look Dr. Rosenberg in the eyes and tell him I’m still with the crazy guy who threatened him over nothing?

I washed the three dishes in my sink and then went to JayWok. After looking at the menu, I decided I wasn’t hungry and walked back, stomped up the stairs, and slammed my door behind me. I crossed my arms in a huff, wishing I didn’t have the day off.

The look in his eyes fractured my heart. Being alone in my apartment, looking at my former spare pillow that was supposed to belong to Josh, I was an emotional mess.

My phone rang, and I picked it up, unable to answer it fast enough.

“Deb?” I said, my eyes instantly filling with tears.

“The hell, Avery?”

I sighed. Josh must have already called Quinn.

“I could have handled the situation better,” I admitted. “I could have discussed it with him instead of acting like a spoiled soap opera wife. I mean … good
God
, handing back the necklace and stomping out? I am supposed to be the reasonable one, and he kept saying practical things like
we love each other
and I couldn’t
just end things
. He was right, but he was fucking wrong!”

“Yep.”

I paused, surprised. “Yep? That’s all you have to say?”

“Avery, keep venting. You’re not done.”

My bottom lip trembled. “I shouldn’t have handed him back the necklace. That was overdramatic. That was cruel.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Uh-huh I’m cruel, or uh-huh you’re acknowledging that you’re listening?”

“The latter.”

“So, I screwed up. But a jealous toddler tantrum?” I said, pacing. “We are too old for that. He confronted Dr. Rosenberg! That was fucking insane!” I tripped over the edge of the rug and then kicked at the rolled up corner. “I went there thinking we were going to make a mutual decision to take a step back and slow things down, but the next thing I know, I’m breaking up with him! I broke up with him, but I still love him. What do I do?”

“Um … get back with him? He still loves you,” she said, sounding bored. “He sounded like he was a fucking mess when he called Quinn. All you have to do is forgive him and he’ll learn his lesson and you can keep being gloriously happy.”

I stuttered. “Is it that easy? I mean … people just do that?”

“Yep.”

I thought for a moment, looking around the room at my empty walls and pillow-less couch and curtain-less windows. Josh’s pillow was my favorite thing in the apartment. There was a reason for it. I’d made my point—albeit rather dramatically. Couples fought and made up all the time. We could, too. Maybe.

“He made his bed,” Deb said. “You should lay in it.”

I raked my hair back, flustered. “Would you date a guy like Josh? Who did what he did?”

“Fell in love with a girl and freaked the first time someone threatened to steal her? Oh yeah.”

“Deb,” Quinn said, sounding sleepy in the background.

“You okay?” Deb asked. “Say the word, and I’ll be over. Quinn snores, anyway.”

“No,” I said, sniffing. I looked out the window at the green beast parallel parked in the street in front of my building. “I’m going to find him.”

We hung up, and I put on my navy-blue puffy coat and boots. I grabbed the keys with the heart key ring Josh had bought for me and a scarf, wrapping it around my neck while I jogged down the stairs.

I passed my car and shoved my hands in my pockets, watching my breath puff out in front of me while I walked the three blocks to Josh’s building. His car wasn’t there, but I buzzed him anyway and waited. He didn’t answer.

I waited on the porch until my teeth began to chatter, and then started down the steps.

“Hey, Avery,” Cinda said, passing by. “Did you lose your key?”

I cringed. “Gave it back.”

“Oh,” she said, glancing back to his empty parking space. “I don’t think he’s home.”

“Do you know where he went? You don’t have to tell me.”

“I know Josh, and if you gave back your key, I’m sure he’s not happy about it. He probably said something stupid, am I right?”

I shrugged. “We both said something stupid.”

She smiled. “I bet he’d want me to tell you where he is.” She pulled her mouth to the side. “But I don’t know. I’m sorry. You can come in and wait at my place until he gets home.”

“That’s okay. Thanks, Cinda.”

I trotted down the stairs, running all the way to my parking spot.

The Dodge growled to life when I twisted the ignition, and I pulled away from the curb, turning toward St. Ann’s. Corner Hole was just a half-mile from the hospital, and that was the only place I could think Josh would be if he wasn’t home or at Quinn’s.

The Dodge grumbled before I killed the ignition and lights. There were only a few cars left in parking lot, including Josh’s. I was suddenly nervous.

What are you doing, Avery?

I looked forward and pulled on the lever. I loved him, and we were going to have to weather some bullshit. We all had garbage to pack away. I couldn’t expect Josh to do a one-eighty and maintain perfection at all times to boot. That wasn’t fair.

Gravel crunched under my boots as I walked toward the brick veneer of Corner Hole. A fluffy white flake fell on my nose, and I looked up, seeing a million matching pieces of frozen sky pouring from the black above. I closed my eyes and smiled, hoping Josh would come outside with me so we could share our first real snowfall together.

I pulled open the door and walked in, smelling stale beer and cigarette smoke. The golden glow of the jukebox in the corner was the main source of light besides the lights strung above the bar. I smiled, thinking of the night Josh had made me stop hating Christmas.

Only a few men were sitting at the bar, none of them Josh. I sat on the middle stool, watching a new bartender washing a glass with a white cloth. He walked over to me, his pecs flexing under his tight black V-neck. His eyebrows were perfectly manicured, so when he leaned over, pretending to flirt, I didn’t take him seriously.

“You’re new,” I said.

“Yes.”

“Avery.”

He smiled. “Oh,
you’re
Avery. Happy birthday.”

I narrowed my eyes at him. “Thanks.”

“Jesse,” he said.

I placed a twenty-dollar bill flat on the counter. “Here’s your tip. I just want a Diet Coke.”

“Keep ’em coming?” he said with a smirk.

“Just the Coke, please. Oh, and …” My words trailed off when I noticed my favorite soft hoodie hanging from a hook behind the bar. At first, I sat up taller and looked around with a ridiculous smile, but it disappeared when I saw Michaels stumble out of the men’s bathroom, her lipstick smeared, her hair disheveled, tugging at her slutty skirt. She glanced around, wiping the sides of her mouth with the back of her hand.

I focused on the hoodie and then Michaels as my stomach twisted. “He wouldn’t,” I mumbled under my breath. The door opened again, and I froze. “Oh, fuck.” My mouth fell open. Relief and then disgust washed over me in waves.

Dr. Rosenberg tried to seem nonchalant as he made his way across the bar, his cheeks flushed and his fly down.

“Avery,” he said, stumbling to a stop. He smelled like whiskey and bad choices. “I didn’t think you came here anymore.”

“Looking for Josh.” I leaned away from him a tiny bit, unable to hide my revulsion. I looked away, hoping Josh would walk in at any moment and save me. He had been right about Dr. Rosenberg all along. Just because the doctor had a family didn’t automatically make him a good man. Josh didn’t try to hide his conquests, and the whole of St. Ann’s thought he was a player, an asshole. The real snake was the beautiful doctor with the wedding ring and the house in Alapocas.

“Avery?”

“What?” I snapped.

Dr. Rosenberg had the gall to act surprised. “Is something wrong?”

I looked down at his open fly, and then away. “No.”

“If you’re looking for Josh, he’s upstairs.”

“Upstairs?”

“With Ginger. He’s drunk.” He eyed the lights hanging from the ceiling. “Drunk doesn’t adequately describe his state, actually. I tried to warn you about him.”

“Why would he be upstairs with Ginger?” He was a liar, and liars lie. I had already made one mistake by believing him. I wasn’t about to fall for it again.

He shrugged. “She lives above the bar.”

“
Ugh.
You would know. Zip up your pants and go home to your wife.”

Dr. Rosenberg stiffened and then looked down, quickly pulling up his zipper and then making a beeline for the door.

Jesse used his soda gun to fill my glass, pretending he hadn’t overheard our conversation.

“Where’s Ginger?” I asked.

“Upstairs,” Jesse said.

I nodded, wondering if I really wanted to ask my next question. “Is she alone?”

“Tell her, Jessepoo,” Michaels said, crawling onto the stool next to me.

I recoiled and then groaned in frustration. “For fuck’s sake, can this day get any worse?”

“Josh is up there. I was trying to take him home, but he wasn’t having it,” she said with no shame, slurring her words.

I snarled my lip, leaning back so she couldn’t breathe in my face.

“Ask him,” Michaels said, her drunken eyes slowly looking to the bartender.

Jesse shook his head. “Don’t put me in the middle. I need this job.”

I placed both palms on the bar, pressing my lips together in a hard line. “Jesse. You would want to know if you were me, wouldn’t you?”

Jesse looked up at me from under his long lashes and then shrugged one shoulder in concession.

“Is he up there with her?” I demanded.

Jesse wiped the counter with a rag in a large circle, trying to keep the guilty look off his face. That was all the answer I needed to know. I nodded once and then stood, my knees feeling like they may buckle under the weight of his silent confession.

“Don’t take it personal, honey,” Michaels said. “If it makes you feel better, he wasn’t interested in anyone until he could barely walk.”

Jesse reached across the bar. “He wasn’t interested in anyone at all. He asked for you at least a dozen times the first twenty minutes of my shift. I think he’s probably up there passed out. No man can get it up when he’s that wasted. If he’s not unconscious, he’s vomiting. Either way, he’s not doing what you think he’s doing.”

My head fell. “So, what? I go home and hope he’s not fucking her brains out?”

“If I were you,” Michaels said, swaying on her stool.

“Careful,” Jess said, pointing at her.