Natalie isn’t even seated again before Johnny boy stands and places a twenty on the table. “What are you doing?”
“I’m really sorry,” he says, “but I forgot this is my mom’s bingo night. It’s the only time she gets out all week, and I have to drive her. She’s got really bad cataracts.”
I bite the inside of my lip to keep from laughing. Damn, I had this guy pegged as a wimp the moment I saw him.
“Really.” Natalie crosses her arms. “How does she play bingo with cataracts?”
“She, uh, she has a friend who also goes every week. They sit together, and the friend helps her.”
“You do realize it’s Tuesday, don’t you?” Natalie says, annoyed, but in some ways, resolute, like she knew this wasn’t going to work out. “Bingo at the community center is on Thursdays.”
“Did I say bingo?” John says. “I meant bunko. That dice game that—”
“I know what bunko is.”
My job here is done. I return to the bar and set down the tray.
“What in the fuck is wrong with you?” Tucker wants to know.
“He’s not right for her.”
“You think you can tell after a couple minutes of conversation with the guy?” Logan asks.
“Damn right.”
The tension in my spine has dissolved. I’m feeling more like myself already. Yeah, maybe I’m an asshole, but sometimes a guy’s got to do what a guy’s got to do.
“If you’re not gonna go after her,” Logan says, “it’s not cool to keep her away from other guys.”
From the corner of my eye, I see Natalie approaching. I’m still eye locked with Logan when she leans both arms on the bar, easing close to say, “What in the flying fuck is wrong with you?”
“Exactly what I was asking,” Tucker says before turning away. “If you two are going to fight, take it out of the bar.”
“I don’t want to—” I start.
“I don’t care what the hell you want.” Natalie stabs a finger toward the front door. “Outside. Now.”
Then she turns and stalks out.
“Dude, if you just blew our chance to get more of Natalie’s pies,” Logan says, real heat in his tone, “I’m going to deck you.”
“Make it right, dipshit,” Tucker says.
I toss them both the bird as I head toward the door.
I’m so twisted, I could explode. I may deserve the verbal whipping she’s going to give me, but I can’t say I’m sorry, which probably makes me worse than a royal asshole.
With a deep breath, I make my way outside and find Natalie pacing, arms crossed, steps deliberate. I’ve seen her pissed at Evan a few times, but this seems more intense. Maybe because her anger is directed at me.
Her head comes up, and she pulls in a breath to say something just as a car turns into the parking lot. She growls and walks around the side of the building. I honestly consider just going back inside, even while knowing I can’t.
Christ, this is going to suck.
I follow her around the side of the building and lean one shoulder against the wall. “I’m not going to apologize, other than to say I’m sorry you picked such a noodle to date after all this time.”
When she turns, the fury on her face is clearly visible in the one light casting most of the alley in shadow. Color lights up her cheeks, and her blue eyes sparkle. She’s fucking gorgeous. “You know nothing about him.”
“I figured out everything I needed to know when I told him you’d have every firefighter in the house watching out for you and he lost all his color. If it were me, I would have decked myself for challenging me that way.” I’ve managed to confuse myself with my own words. “You know what I mean.”
“No, I don’t. I don’t understand anything about you anymore. I honestly have no idea who you are. We’ve become— I don’t even know what we’ve become.”
“What does that mean?”
“We used to be friends. Even outside my relationship with Evan, you and I were always friends. Now I’m nothing but an obligation to you. You come over to fix things, and that’s it. You don’t even stay to talk. You can’t wait to get away from me, just like everyone else in town. You have no idea how lonely it is being a firefighter’s widow.”
I open my mouth to disagree, because, well, we’re fighting, I should disagree. Only that’s a statement I’ve never heard before, a situation I never even knew existed, let alone considered.
“What are you talking about?”
“I’m a pariah, pitied by everyone, understood by no one. All but a few of my friends have drifted away because they don’t know what to say to me. All the firefighters and their wives see me as a reality they try desperately to ignore.”
“I…didn’t know.”
“Because you never took the time to know. You never asked. You’re just like everyone else.”
“Hey, now—”
“It’s been two years,” she yells at me. “He’s been gone two fucking years, Cole. When do I get to start my life again? What’s your imagined deadline? Do you expect me to wait three years? Five years? Ten? When will it be okay for me to see someone else?”
I shake my head. Never is on the tip of my tongue. The very tip.
“And what about you?” she says. “You were his best friend. Why do you get to have other friends when I don’t get to have another relationship? Why do you get to date and sleep around with whoever you want while I’m stuck alone?”
I know what she’s getting at, but I’m so not going there. “You’re not making sense.”
She stops pacing right in front of me and shoves me backward with both hands. I instinctively reach out and catch one of her arms a second before my back hits the wall. The aggression stuns me. Sure, I deserve it, I just didn’t think she had it in her. And now that I’ve got ahold of her arm, I can’t seem to let it go.
“Don’t pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about,” she says.
“Look, I really want what’s best for you. Evan would want that too. Milquetoast doesn’t suit you at all.”
“How in the hell would you know what suits me?” Her voice is rising, and her mounting fury makes an emotion that feels like panic bubble to the surface. “Where the hell do you get off thinking you can choose a guy for me?”
“Natalie—”
“No. Stop. This is over. We’re done. I don’t want your fucking pity. Don’t even think about coming over to the house again. I may not be able to fix things, but I sure as shit can use a telephone to call someone who can.”
“No.” I’m adamant, determined, angry. “You’re not cutting me out of your life. I’m not going to stop coming over—”
“Yes, you are.”
“No, I’m not.”
“You’re going to stop coming over, you’re going to stop making choices for me, and you’re going to—”
No, no, no. I yank on her arm, pulling her into me with an abrupt jerk, but she’s still yelling and trying to pry her arm loose.