Page 69

Story: Birthright

"I was thinking more like a lemon twist. Show off those bartending skills you're so proud of."

I roll my eyes but grab a lemon anyway. "These skills cost money. Are you going to pay for this drink?"

Roman chuckles. "I drive you to work every day. Isn't that payment enough? You have terrible taste in music."

This morning, I made him listen to Taylor Swift on the way here while I belted out the heartfelt lyrics. Roman claimed I was making his ears bleed. So I sang louder.

"Aw, is babysitting such a hard job?" I mock pout at him as I strategically peel the skin of the lemon into a little twist, perching it on the rim of his club soda.

"Babysitting." He scoffs. "More like keeping you alive. Though some days that feels like babysitting."

The bell above the door chimes, and I look up with my customer service smile already in place.

It freezes on my face.

Rhett stands in the doorway, his lanky frame silhouetted against the afternoon sun. His blond hair is shorter than when I last saw him, but he's exactly the same in every other way. He's wearing a pair of charcoal gray dress pants and a plaid button-up. I used to enjoy seeing him dressed up, feeling like I was dating a man who did somethingimportant.But he wasn't important at all. Just another employee who worked with my stepfather, shuffling papers all day in a stuffy office. He just liked to feel important and hold it over my head every chance he had.

A toxic mix of emotions spirals through me. Some time ago, I thought I loved the man who’s standing in the entrance staring at me. I'm not really sure I knew what love was, though. I was living a make-believe life, pretending that it was everything I wanted because it made my mother happy. But I'm not sure I ever really loved Rhett. On paper, he was perfect. Job, money, house, he had it all. And I was the shiny jewel on his arm. The missing piece that created his picture-perfect life.

When I broke it off, my mother cried more than I did. She thought I was ruining my life, flushing it down the toilet. And then my father died, and I inherited this bar, and she cried again, sobbing about how I hated her. How I was doing this on purpose to make her miserable.

Her misery was what I had been trying to avoid for as long as I can remember.

Moving here was the first time in my twenty-five years that I've been selfish.

Rhett has an easy smile, and he peers around the bar until he sees me, standing with Roman's drink in my hand and a shell-shocked look on my face. Beside me, Roman says something, but his voice is like Charlie Brown’s parents, meaningless sounds that don't connect in my head.

Fancy dress shoes tap against the laminate flooring as Rhett moves closer to the bar. The drink in my hand is taken away, and that snaps me out of my head. I look at Roman, who has a concerned expression etched across his features.

"You know him?" he asks, low enough for only me to hear.

"Uh huh." I nod.

"You want me to get rid of him?" he asks, just as Rhett reaches the bar.

I don't have a chance to answer before my ex is greeting me, attempting to reach over the surface to hug me. I step back, avoiding his touch, and he acts like nothing happened.

"Liv." He has that bright, charming smile on his face, the one that makes everyone fall for him.

"Should I call Sam?" Roman asks, his phone already in hand, ready to tap a few buttons and have his boss here in minutes.

I shake my head. What would Sam even do? No. I need to figure out what my ex wants, and then get rid of him.

"Why are you here?"

Rhett flinches at my tone. "Your mom's worried about you," he says, leaning against the bar like he belongs there. "You haven't called her in weeks."

I laugh, but there's no humor in it. "So she sent you across the country to check on me? That's hard to believe."

"I was coming to New Orleans for a conference anyway." He shrugs, his eyes scanning the bar with that subtle judgmentI always hated. "Thought I'd see how you're doing with this...project of yours."

The way he says "project" makes my skin crawl. Like the bar is some temporary hobby I'll abandon when I come to my senses. Like he doesn't believe I meant it when I said I was coming here. He thinks I'll come to my senses and come crawling back to him, eventually.

"It's not a project, Rhett. It's my business."

Roman shifts beside me, his presence suddenly reassuring. I notice how his body has angled slightly between me and Rhett.

"Come on, Liv. We both know this isn't what you really want." Rhett lowers his voice, trying for intimacy. "Your mom misses you. I miss you."