Nope. Not me in the slightest.
Taking a sip, I give Lillie a little wave and she secures the empty booth for us.
“Why do I feel like I’ve seen you before?” he asks when I start to walk away.
I stop, turning back toward him. “Wow.”
The seat remains unclaimed still. He hasn’t budged. He hasn’t stopped drinking me in with those dark brows knit together, wracking his brain and waiting for something to register.
“Seriously?” I ask. Releasing a grumbled breath, I place my tumbler on the bar and work the buttons of Lillie’s black cardigan, but only enough to expose a hint of the coffee stain on my white shirt. “Remember me now?”
Lillie rises slightly from her seat in the booth, waving me over, her face contorted. Funny. She didn’t strike me as an impatient sort.
Grabbing my drink, I don’t stick around and wait for Mr. Tall, Rude, and Handsome to respond. I spent all afternoon replaying that moment in my head, questioning if I really was at fault and overreacting at his snide comment, but now I know I was right. He’s just a prick. Plain and simple. And he doesn’t deserve another fraction of a second of my time.
I leave and weave through pockets of patrons, making my way to Lillie.
“Hey,” I say when I slide into the booth, taking the spot across from her. It’s warm in here now, and I wish I could peel this sweater off, but yeah …
Her smile has all but faded, her creamy complexion a lighter shade of pale.
Lillie’s hand reaches across the table, cupping mine. “Why were you throwing shade at Mr. Welles’ son? I thought you hadn’t met him yet?”
I wrinkle my nose and chuckle. “That wasn’t shade. That was me keeping my cool.”
Her blue eyes flick across the bar, toward the pompous, pedigreed man who just paid twenty bucks for my spot.
“Turns out he was the one who bumped into me this morning,” I say. “He left some money with Marta for my dry cleaning. Typical rich guy, right? Thinking they can wave cash at their problems and make them disappear.”
Her typical bubbly disposition is a concerning shade darker. “I don’t know, Aerin. I don’t know if I’d have done that. If he’s anything like Mr. Welles …”
She doesn’t finish her thought, not that she needs to.
My stomach drops.
No—it plummets.
Hard.
Fast.
I release the hold I have on my drink and push it away.
“Oh my god.” I hunch my shoulders, my fingers lifting to my temples. “I’m going to lose my job.”
“You never know. Maybe he’ll be cool about it?”
“I was a royal bitch to him.” Rubbing my lips together, I stare at my gin and tonic. But in my defense, he deserved it.
“Hi, ladies, what are we drinking?” A cocktail waitress in head-to-toe wash-worn black interrupts our little conversation, and I take a second to swallow a few deep breaths.
They don’t help.
“I’ll have a Lemon Drop. Thank you,” Lillie says, replacing her grave expression with a toothy grin.
“I’m good, thanks.” I point to my barely-touched cocktail.
“Don’t turn around now, but he’s looking this way.” Lillie reaches for the laminated drink menu on the table and pretends to read through it.
“I’m so going to be fired tomorrow.” I reach for my glass. I’ve never been fired from anything in my life. “But you know what? It’s fine. I don’t want to work for someone like that anyway.”
I take a drink generous enough to wash down all those plans I’d made for that first paycheck. Looks as though my student loans are going to be sticking with me until the very end after all.
“Don’t think that way. You don’t know that,” Lillie says, though her voice lacks the confidence necessary to make me believe her. “There’s still a chance …”
“I appreciate your optimism, but I don’t think there’s any coming back from this. As soon as he realizes I’m his new concierge—”
“—wait, wait, wait. He doesn’t know?” Her pale pink manicured fingers splay against the table.
I shake my head. “Nope.”
The waitress returns with Lillie’s sunshine-yellow cocktail, complete with curly zests of lemon hooked on the rim, and Lillie hands her a twenty.
“Seriously though, I’m sure you’ll be fine. It’s just a little misunderstanding,” Lillie says.
If Lillie were a drink, she’d absolutely be a Lemon Drop. Cheerful. Bright. Sanguine. I imagine her orbit is so positive, she only attracts good things in her life. That explains why she’s always smiling.
I should take a page from her book. I bet it’d be lifechanging. Then again, she reminds me too much of my mother in the way that she’s almost too sweet and very much living in her own little world where nothing bad ever happens.
I’m too much of a realist to ever set foot in that kind of a La La Land.
“He just looked over here again.” She takes a sip, keeping her gaze trained straight ahead. “Now I’m super curious. What did you say to him over there? You were giving him major side eye.”