Page 18 of The Atonement (Arrangement #3)
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
PETER
“ G in and tonic.” I slapped a hand on the bar, debit card pinned between two fingers when the bartender finally turned to face me. Might as well use up the rest of the money before Ainsley stole that too.
“Sure thing, hon,” she said, flicking her dark, curly hair over her shoulder so I had a clear view of the low-cut shirt she was wearing.
I waited for the familiar tingle of excitement to spread through my core, but to my surprise, nothing happened. I felt nothing at all.
She slid the drink to me, taking the card and handing me a receipt to sign moments later. When I turned away from the bar, a woman with long, red hair stood behind me. I did a double take at the sight of her, convinced, if only for a second, that it was Ainsley standing there.
To my disappointment, the girl was years younger than my wife, and the red of her hair was too bright—too fake. I hated her in an instant, as if she’d come there just to torment me. Just to remind me Ainsley was gone.
I shoved past her, my arm colliding with her shoulder with extra force.
“Hey, excuse you!” she shouted, spinning around as if ready to start a fight.
Her fire amused me.
“Excuse me.” I smiled at her, my anger fading slightly. “Sorry, I was distracted. Are you okay?”
She simmered down, dropping to her flat feet from off her tiptoes. “Um, yeah. I am. It seemed like you did that on purpose or something. Sorry for yelling at you. It’s been a weird day.”
“For me, too,” I admitted, then shot a look at the bartender behind her. “Can I make it up to you? Buy you a drink?”
“Oh, um.” She eyed the folded cash in her hand, then shoved it back into her pocket. “What the hell. Why not?”
“Why not?” I repeated, stepping forward. “What’ll it be?”
“I’ll have a…” She scanned the row of alcohol behind the bartender, who appeared to only be half listening as she slid two bottles of beer toward the man next to us. “Manhattan, please. With Basil Hayden’s and extra cherry juice.”
The bartender set to work and the woman turned to me, smacking her gum with confidence. “You gotta name?”
“Last I checked it’s Peter.”
Last I checked? I fought back a grimace.
“Nikki,” she said, reaching for the bowl of nuts in the center of the bar and taking a handful. I watched the man next to us eyeing her and stepped closer. He glanced at me, then back at her, and turned away.
“You come here often, Nikki?” I asked, my voice raised slightly as the song changed to something more up-tempo. I leaned in closer to hear her reply.
“Nah, I’m in town for a funeral.”
I jerked my head back in shock at her answer. “No kidding?”
“Yep.”
“I’m sorry for your loss.”
“Eh, it wasn’t that big of a loss.” She blew a bubble and popped it loudly, outstretching her hand to take the drink as the bartender held it out. “Thanks.”
I paid for her drink and then we moved through the crowd quickly, finding an empty booth in the far corner of the room. She sat down first, not expecting or allowing me to sit next to her. I slid onto the opposite bench.
“So, what do you do, Peter?”
“I’m an architect.”
That earned me a look of approval. One I was very familiar with. She grinned, leaning in to take a sip of her drink. When the drink touched her lips, she spit it out, covering her mouth as her cheeks turned pink with embarrassment.
“Oh my god, that’s awful,” she said, her face wrinkled with disgust. She fanned her tongue with her hands, laughing in spite of herself.
“I’m so sorry. I thought I would seem sophisticated ordering a drink I heard my ex order once.
But…” She fought to keep herself from gagging.
“Oh, it’s so bad. Why didn’t anybody tell me it was so bad? ”
The tension left my shoulders. “It’s the bitters. Not a drink for everyone.”
She pushed it away, a bit of the dark liquid sloshing out onto the table. “You aren’t kidding. I’ll be right back.”
She stood, scurrying across the room and back to the bar. I pulled the drink closer to me and out of the way, wondering if she’d gotten enough of the drug in her system to have any effect.
Probably not was my guess.
Moments later, she returned with a colorful cocktail in a glass, looking pleased with herself.
“Well, now that I’ve completely embarrassed myself, let’s start over. Hi, Peter the architect. I’m Nikki, the full-time student, part-time nanny.” She held out her hand, shaking mine with mock sincerity.
So, she was actually as young as she looked.
Consider me curious.
“What are you going to school for?” I swirled the stirrer in my drink, the trill of the ice in my glass almost hypnotizing.
“Culinary arts, actually,” she said, as if it were something impressive. “I want to open my own cupcake bakery.”
“Just cupcakes?”
“Mhm.” She gave a proud nod. “ Just cupcakes. Actually, that’s what I want to call it. ”
“Well, it would certainly cut down on confusion.” Her expression changed, cooling slightly as she seemed to realize I was making fun of her, so I added, “Hey, who doesn’t love cupcakes? Sounds like a good idea to me.”
She giggled, rubbing her hands together. “So, tell me more about yourself. Do you live in Nashville?”
I shook my head quickly, used to lying my way through this question. “No. I’m just in town for business.”
“Oh, interesting.” She twirled her straw, not sounding the least bit interested. “Do you have a girlfriend?”
“No.” It wasn’t a lie. A wife wasn’t a girlfriend. “I wouldn’t be sitting here talking to you if I did, now would I?”
“You’d be surprised.”
I sighed, resting an arm on the back of the booth. “Yeah, there are a lot of creeps out there.”
“I can’t tell if you’re joking, but there really are. It’s tough being a woman these days.”
“I get it.” I took another drink.
God, she was annoying.
Why did I care?
Why was I suffering through this?
If I asked her to leave with me right now, I was sure she would, even without the coercion of the drug I’d placed in her wasted drink. So, why couldn’t I ask her?
It wasn’t that she wasn’t attractive enough—I never cared about that .
It certainly wasn’t that she wasn’t annoying me enough.
Something was stopping me. A block of some sort.
Suddenly it hit me… I couldn’t bring myself to want to do it. It sounded about as fun as washing the car or painting the house. And it was a hell of a lot more work.
I wasn’t interested, not only in her, but in any of the women in the bar. Not because of some sudden change of heart, but more out of what felt like…laziness? Apathy?
I didn’t care about the girl. Didn’t care about the chase.
Ordinarily, the things I had planned for her were the only things that brought me clarity on my darkest days, but tonight…tonight I couldn’t do it.
“I love this song,” she squealed as the music changed to something else I didn’t recognize. “Do you know it?”
I cocked my ear to the side, as if I were trying to listen. “I don’t think so.”
If I took her home with me, if I just forced myself back into old habits, it would take my mind off of everything wrong with my life.
I could do it. It would be easy. And, once I’d started, I wouldn’t be able to stop.
“Hey, do you want to get out of here?” I asked, leaning forward and slurping down the rest of my drink. The alcohol burned my throat.
She smiled, running a finger around the rim of her glass. “Well, I want to finish my drink first. And…maybe have another.” She batted her eyelashes at me, and I pictured bashing her skull in. I could practically smell the blood.
But I didn’t want to.
As real as the possibility was, I just…didn’t want to.
God, what was wrong with me?
I slid out of the booth without warning. “I’ve gotta go.”
“Wait, what? I was just kidding.” She reached for my hand, and her skin on mine repulsed me. I felt like one of those guys who gets hypnotized to make their cigarettes taste like worms.
Everything I’d ever loved, everything I’d ever craved…felt pointless.
Unappealing.
Disgusting, even.
I couldn’t have been less into it.
“No, it’s fine. I just remembered I have to…” I didn’t bother finishing the sentence, already making my way across the bar and toward the front door.
What was wrong with me?
What had Ainsley done?