Rock Bottom (Dawson Family 6) - Page 22

Well, at least he doesn’t seem too torn up about it. I sit back on the couch and open up Pinterest, looking for ideas on how to decorate my tiny living room. The apartment is nice. Not amazing or great, but nice. It’s in desperate need of updating, but the carpet is new, the paint is a neutral gray, and it didn’t have any sort of smell when I moved in. If I decide to stay in Eastwood for good, I’ll look into renting a house or even buying one in the future.

But for now…it’ll do.

I waste a good amount of time pinning decor ideas that are way too expensive to ever follow through with. Yawning, I get up to go into my bedroom and change, but right as I’m about to reach behind me and pull the zipper down on my dress, I catch my reflection in the mirror.

I put way too much effort into my appearance to just strip down, throw my hair up in a messy bun, and call it a night. I’ve heard the nurses talk about a bar called Getaway more than once, and it seems to be the hangout place in Eastwood. According to Jane, who frequents the joint, the drinks are good and the food is even better. And the best part is the bar being owned by hot identical twins.

They’re both married, of course, furthering my theory that all the good ones are taken and I’m destined to be alone. Maybe I’ll make a detour to the cat rescue on the way to the bar, though I’m sure by now they’re closed.

“Figaro,” I call, grabbing a pair of heeled booties from my closet. “Dinner time.” He follows me into the little kitchen and meows at my feet as I open up a can of food. I plop it down on his plate, refill his bowl of dry food that he hardly touches anymore since he likes the wet food much better, and make sure his water bowl is clean and full. I run my hand over his sleek fur.

“Don’t wait up for me,” I say, turning on the lamp in the living room. I hate walking into a dark house, and while this place is small and it would be hard to hide in without being seen, my imagination gets away from me at night. If I were home more, I’d get a dog who would bark when murderers snuck in while I was sleeping.

Putting on my coat, I give myself a final look-over in the mirror, and then head out.Chapter 7Dean“That’s a fucking relief,” I say a little too loud, getting a nasty look from the lady behind me.

“What is?” Danielle asks, putting a pie in a to-go box for me.

“That blind date Quinn tried to set me up on canceled.”

“You didn’t want to go?” She adds an extra cookie, probably feeling sorry for me. But as far as I’m concerned, I dodged a fucking bullet.

“On a blind date? Hell no. I don’t want to go on any date.”

“I can see that.” She closes the box and slides it across the counter. “Does Quinn know yet? She just—”

“Wants me to be happy, I know,” I sigh. “And going out with random people she sets me up with isn’t doing the trick.”

Danielle goes to ring me up, giving me the family discount of course. “I don’t have any advice, but I wish I did. I can’t stand people who cheat, and I can’t even image how you feel,” she says quietly so no one around us hears. “And I’ll say something to Quinn if you want. We’re all going over tomorrow so the kids can have a playdate.”

“I would really appreciate it.”

“I can’t promise it will do anything, but I’ll drop some subtle hints. Make her think it’s her idea and not mine to leave you alone.”

I laugh. “I like the way you think.” I tap my phone against the screen on the register, paying for my cheat-day treats.

“Are you going to be at dinner Friday?”

“Yep. I’ll see you then.”

“Great. Bye, Dean.”

“See ya,” I say with a wave and pick up the pie, feeling a weight lifted as I walk out into the cold air. I’ve been mentally preparing myself for this date all night, wishing I could cancel without breaking the terms I agreed to with this blind-date shit.

This was date number three, and part of me just wanted to get it over with. Since I wasn’t the one who canceled, I’m saying this counts. I’ve held up my end of the bargain and I’m not going out on any more stupid fucking dates.

There’s no point. It doesn’t matter how long you know a person. How much you tried to “do things right.” They’ll still screw you over in the end, and it’s only a matter of time before it happens again.

Tags: Emily Goodwin Dawson Family Erotic
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