His Best Friend's Sister - Page 46

I was shaken from the question he asked me, and I turned toward the house and caught the quickest glimpse of my mother looking out of the window toward me before disappearing back inside. I shook my head and got in my car. Family similarities are deep. I cranked my radio and peeled off, too.

23

Tyler

The crowds were pouring in and it was becoming one of those big nights. Tips were pretty good for an average day already, though, and the work kept my mind busy. I was trying to look on the bright side of things. I had been trying to do that a lot lately. It kept my mind off everything with Becca, or at least as much as that was possible. If I just kept my head down and focused on serving drinks and turning tables over, I could make money and that the night would go by quickly enough.

It didn’t help that my best friend was essentially gone, too. Not only had I lost what was turning into a really promising relationship, but I no longer had my best friend and confidant, either. I had my brothers, but they were all going through their own things, and they also knew I had one foot out the door as it was. The last thing I wanted was for them to think I was having some midlife crisis on top of it all. That would just be embarrassing.

Briefly, I worried that was what it was all along. I was almost forty, and while that was hardly “old,” it was old enough that I was concerned I would never find that partner that men my age usually already had. Certainly, I was in the minority on that, and it bugged me, but what bugged me more was that I didn’t want to settle. I knew what I wanted in a partner, and more frustratingly, I thought I had found it. Becca was perfect for me in a way I had utterly not expected. Yet, when my mind floated to the fact that I was alone, and that I might be alone for the foreseeable future, I tended to mourn the loss of that potential relationship almost as much, if not as much, as my friendship with Nick.

I was in a funk, and I was trying to put on a brave face. I was starting to suspect my brothers knew it, too. But none of them had said anything yet, so I kept moving forward. Flipping tables. Making drinks. Running food.

The door opened in my periphery as I was turning around to put glasses back on the shelf behind the bar, and I absently welcomed them in. I didn’t even pay attention to the words anymore. It was a generic greeting, and that was all that was needed. Let them know I saw them, and that I would keep an eye out for a new face when they made their way to the bar. But when I turned, the face I found was not one I expected.

Becca was making her way to the bar through the crowd. My heart jumped into my throat, skipped a beat, fluttered, and every other cliché wrapped into one, thumping, pounding moment. I nearly dropped a glass I was holding, and I cursed myself for it. I needed to get it together. She could have been there for any reason at all.

A seat opened up, and she slid into it seamlessly. Whether the guy had only intended on hitting the restroom or was on his way out the door was irrelevant. He was gone, and Becca was sitting there, and that was all that mattered in the entire universe at that moment.

“Hi,” she said.

“Hey,” I responded.

“When is your break?” she asked, picking up a coaster and turning it on its side, flipping it over and over.

“Not for another couple of hours. I’d take it now, but…” I gestured toward the packed and loud bar.

“No, I get it. Take your time. Just let me know when you’re ready.”

“Do you want something to drink?” I asked, partially out of habit.

“Just a soda,” she said. “I don’t want to take up a spot.”

“It’s fine,” I said quickly. “You aren’t bothering anyone.”

“Thanks,” she said, and I poured her a glass of her favorite lemon-lime brand.

She sat in the corner of the bar, sipping through the straw at her soda while I worked, and I thought she was just the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. Aside from occasionally glancing at her drink to make sure she wasn’t empty, I kept myself busy getting drinks and occasionally dipping into the kitchen. An hour and a half or so had passed when Mason tapped me on the shoulder and motioned to the back.

“Break,” he said, slipping into place where I had been standing and taking a drink order. I glanced over at Becca and made eye contact. I motioned with my head toward the hallway leading to the restrooms and the back door while mouthing, “Break time.” She nodded and slipped off the stool.

Tags: Natasha L. Black Romance
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