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CHAPTER 16
KENZIE
Mikael texts.
I’m on my way to the pub.
Great. We’ll be at the bar.
Don’t pick up any strangers.
Never.
Why did I say that? I should try to make him jealous and play the game.
But at the same time, I can’t stop the shit-eating grin on my face as I eye his text. I glance at the time. Shit. I can’t be late. I drop my phone on the dresser before I search for something to wear. I have a little black wool mini dress in the back of my closet and I pull it, trying to break it out of the dry cleaner cheap wire hanger that resembles a wasp nest only they are more deadly.
I wrestle with the mangled hangers and one gets lodged in my hair. “Fuck!” I scream, exasperated. I move to my armoire and open a door to pry the culprit out of my tresses without breaking off a chunk of hair. “This only happens to me,” I mutter. My heart races with panic. What if I’m sucked into the maze and I never return, like the branches in the Triwizard’s maze?
Sherlock is on the bed and lifts a sleepy eye to see what the fuss is over.
“It’s fine. I’ll whip this shit into submission if it’s the last thing I do!” I tell him. He wines and I wonder if he’s internalizing my frustration.
After my hair is freed and my dress is in the clear, I toss the shit stick of metal into a box sitting on my closet floor. That’s a problem for another day.
I field my way through a collection of boots lined up under my hanging clothes and pull out my old faithful black leather hooker boots.
I dress in black, lacy undergarments that have collected dust in my dresser drawer. I bought these to feel pretty in the absence of dates. I guess it was a consolation prize. I’m surprised they haven’t dry-rotted because I never have an opportunity to show them off.
Once I’m dressed, I apply makeup with care and skip the smokey eye tutorial I had primed on YouTube. With my luck, I’d look like a hooker who got slugged in both eyes by a pimp.
I fluff out my hair and outline my lips with a pencil before I add lipstick and gloss.
“How do I look?” I ask Sherlock.
He lifts his head and pants.
I assume he approves. I walk to the living room and Sherlock is on my heel.
“You look amazing,” Bo says, tugging down her red mini. I notice her slouch boots and it’s as if we’re still in college and getting ready to hit a club together.
“Thanks. So do you!”
“Mikael’s eyes will drop out of his head when he sees you.”
“I can only hope. It serves him right for putting me in the friend zone.” How long I can remain his friend when it hurts so bad when I see him with someone else?
“This is true. Maybe it will be different tonight.”
“From your lips to Cupid’s ears,” I reply, but I know it won’t happen. Unfortunately, Cupid has been quiet. Without a sign from her that she’s going to bless me, I’m doubtful anyone will fall in love with me. “Let’s go.” I pet Sherlock and Bo drives us in her newish SUV.
Just as I intended, we arrived early and sat at the bar. It's my favorite Irish pub and it’s not far from where we live. The dark wood reeks of an old-world vibe. I imagine a pub in Ireland would look like this. I’d love to travel one day. Oddly, striking out on an adventure with Bo would be ideal if I’m destined to be alone forever. We always have each other’s backs, and we can navigate the hell out of any situation. It’s not like we’ve not had our share of saving each other from lecherous men in bars.
Music plays softly and adds to the ambiance of the evening. Wine glasses are hanging on a rack over the bartender's heads. A huge antique-looking chandelier lights the room. The presence of recessed lights adds a bit of a modern look to the dark wood floors that creaked when I walked over them.
I don't like beer or cabbage, but I love Shepherd’s pie.
“Can I buy you a drink?” the man beside me asks.
I'm floored that a stranger is hitting on me at a bar. I wish the old ways would return. I have no clue what life was like before dating apps but I know my mother met my dad at church.
Besides, I hate dating apps! They are impersonal and I rely on Bo to help screen men for me.
I glance at the nice-looking man beside me. “Oh, I'm fine,” I murmur.
“I'm Jonathan,” he says, putting out his hand and giving me a friendly smile.
“Kenzie,” I say, shaking his hand.
I don’t feel anything. There’s no attraction or spark—it’s not like I was expecting the Earth to move. He’s not Mikael.
He has balls though, as he’s a stranger and I think he’s hitting on me.
Is he sober?
Bo jabs her elbow into my ribs. I raise my eyebrows. “What?”
“He's cute.”
He is. But he's not the man I love.
“Do you come here often? I do. I love the dark ale,” Jonathan continues.
“I don’t like lighter beer,” I politely reply, noting that he didn’t wait for me to answer his question before he continued.
“Ah, you need to try this. Honestly.” He asks the bartender for another beer, but I notice that his beer is still full.
The bartender slides the beer to him, and he places it before me.
“Try it.”
“I'm fine.”
“It's on me—you'll love it.”
Yuck!
Before I can think of a retort, I hear a familiar voice say, “There you are, honey. I'm sorry I'm late.”
I turn in my chair and Mikael is standing beside me. His cologne hugs me and I melt.
“Hi, sweetie,” I smile adoringly at him.
“I booked the wedding venue you wanted.”
“Fantastic. Thank you so much,” I reply. “You know, you love dark ale,” I say, handing him the drink Johnathan pushed on me. Mikael plays along and graciously takes it from me. Our fingers brush. His touch is soft and warm. My pussy tingles. I'm drawn to him and turn my face up to gaze adorningly into his eyes.
He winks at me as he raises the beer, and nods to Johnathan. “Thanks, for keeping her company for me,” before he drinks it.
“I had no idea she was taken,” he mumbles nervously and his face is filled with disappointment.
“Our table is ready,” Mikael says, putting the empty glass on the bar.
“Great.” I turn to Bo. “Let's go.”
“Gladly,” she replies, and we follow Mikael to a table.
“Thanks for saving me,” I say once we're settled.
“My pleasure. So where did I book a venue?”
“The historic hotel on the river, Captain Nichols Inn. You know, the one where you proposed to me. It was an incredible summer night, and the ambiance of the outdoor lighting and the glow of fireflies was unforgettable.” I give him a side-eye that implies he should know this and say, “How could you forget?”
“And here I thought I was unforgettable,” he teases.
“Oh my God,” Bo groans. “Get a room.”
I giggle.
If only.
“So, what did you do yesterday, Mikael?” Bo asks.
“I was with friends for the game, and everyone loved your sandwiches, Kenzie.” His smile is infectious and makes me almost forget we're not dating.
I'm slick between my legs. How does he make me feel like I'm the only person in the room?
“Great,” I reply. “Those sandwiches are made with love even if I don’t like the company you keep.”
“Touchè,” he smirks.
I turn to Bo and change the subject. “I applied for the loan to buy the shop.“
“You're buying the bakery?” Mikael asks.
“Yes, I decided to do it,” I smile confidently. Something about him brings out the best in me. I'm not as nervous as usual when I'm with him.
“That's great. Most of my friends know the bakery and love it,” he adds.
Bo’s look translates into “I told you so.”
“I just need to get the loan,” I add.
“I'm sure it won't be an issue,” Bo says.
“I hope you're right. I'm planning a Grand Re-Opening on Valentine's Day.”
“That's right around the corner,” Bo interjects.
“I know. But it makes sense. The place will be busy, and I can capitalize on the day and get free publicity.”
“It's a good idea. I'm sure you'll be busy,” Mikael says.
Is he impressed, or is it my imagination?
The server arrives and asks for our drink order. Mikael orders a bottle of champagne. I shoot him a questioning glance. I’m sure he has money for it but I know it’s the most expensive champagne on the menu.
“We have to celebrate!” he adds, stating the obvious even if I think it’s premature. His look conveys this celebration is happening whether I want it to or not.
The evening passes, and for me, no one in the room exists outside our table.