Page 9 of Easy Reunion

“What? Why?” Her voice holds a note of nervousness she tries to hide.

“Because what you did could be construed as a misdemeanor under Georgia law. You deliberately cultivated feelings of hatred, provoking a breach of peace.”

“Really? Who would dare press charges against me?” Her chin juts out pugnaciously.

I smile cruelly before shoving my way past her and her little posse, leaving her to think that maybe somebody was going to hold her accountable for her remorseless behavior.

Now, I don’t just want a drink before I go to my room to work, I need it. Then, maybe I can try to forget when I’ll ever have a chance to apologize for my mistakes, or if I’ll be left to regret them for the rest of my life.

* * *

Pushingmy way through crowds of partygoers, I feel like I’ve lost my last chance to say everything I’ve needed to get off my chest.

I fucked up.

I never wanted to hurt you.

Can you forgive me?

The answer to the last is something I’ve spent fifteen years waiting for. The problem is, every time I’ve asked the question in my head, silence is my only answer. Like I suspect it would have been if I’d gotten the chance to talk with Kelsey tonight.

I enter the Aqua Fuego Bar, and the place is packed. Golfers and couples waiting for their spot in the adjoining restaurant are taking up every available seat except one next to a woman who is talking on her cell phone near a modern piece of aqua blue backlit glass. Sighing in relief, I begin to weave my way toward the empty spot at the bar, hoping no one beats me to it.

But as I get closer, I can’t help but notice the light catching the highlights in her warm brown hair as she tosses her head back while she laughs. It cascades over the creamy skin of a bared shoulder, reminding me vaguely of someone I can’t quite put my finger on.

Maybe she’s someone I went to school with?Before I know it, I’m standing right next to her. Her face is in profile while she listens with a smile to the person she’s speaking to.

Clearing my throat to interrupt her call politely, I ask, “Is this seat taken?”

Blinking up at me with eyes that are bright gray, I freeze in place. I still don’t move when she murmurs into the phone, “I’ll text you later. Something came up.” After giving me a full head-to-toe perusal, she nods her head as if she’s making an internal decision.

Lowering her long lashes, she says, “Have a seat.”

Sliding my ass onto the stool next to her, I immediately raise my hand to get the bartender’s attention before I start to ask her a million questions.

Like how I feel like I know her when I have no idea who she is?