Page 3 of Abyss

I look to my right—no windows close by—before I look up, feeling better about the fact that there are no lightbulbs above us, either.

It’s going to be fine. I’m just all up in my head about it. It’s really not that big a deal.

Pulling the wrapper off the top, I smile with feigned confidence at the two men awaiting their drinks.

Well, I smile at one.

The other can catch the next train to hell, if I have anything to say about it.

Still, my traitorous eyes brush over the way his hands flex, not missing the lack of a wedding ring on his finger. That doesn’t mean he’s not married, but let’s be honest, who the hell would marry his grouchy ass?

The gray at his temples and in his stubble, and the age lines at the corners of his eyes say he’s not young—probably in his mid-forties—but there’s also a ruggedness around his features, like he’s spent time in the sun or working with his hands.

Pressing my thumb to the top of the cork inside the wire cage, I untwist the wire tab, taking that moment to breathe in through my nose and out through my mouth as discreetly as possible.

Shoving the bottom of the bottle inside my abdomen to keep it steady, I take off the wire cage and place both thumbs under the cork. I push with all my might when I hear one of the men murmur hesitantly—something about never takingoff the wire cage—before I feel the cork release and go flying with apop!

As if I’m watching it in slow motion, the cork goes soaring, connecting with the gorgeous grump’s forehead, eliciting anoof!out of him before bouncing off to the side.

My eyes widen in horror as his hand flies to his head, and I quickly put the champagne bottle on the table and lean toward him, trying to form an apology while hoping to . . . hoping to do something.Anything!

But in my haste, with my heart hammering like a thunderstorm, I accidentally topple over his ice water, too.

He huffs audibly, trying but failing to move aside inside the booth, as cold liquid sloshes over the table and into his lap. Wet spots decorate his white button-down shirt, and his jaw tightens so hard, I’m afraid he’s going to break it.

Time freezes right along with my breath and my heart as his shocked eyes sear my face. A red welt blooms in the middle of his perfectly symmetrical forehead, and given the way his hands are now fisted on the table, I can tell his mild irritation has shifted to barely-controlled rage.

“Oh my God!” My cheeks burn as I stammer out an apology, barely hearing the other man snicker. “I’m so, so sorry!”

I reach for the black napkin around his silverware, sending his fork flying across the table, before bending over and patting the ridiculous amount of water pooled on his lap.

My brain tells me to get a hold of myself—to stop patting his fucking crotch!—but it’s as if my body is decoupled from its commands. My eyes prick and my face burns at a thousand degrees as blood rushes through my ears.

I’m not going to cry, I’m not going to cry.

A calloused hand wraps around my wrist, halting my movement, and if I wasn’t heating up with embarrassment, I’d actually have goosebumps fly across my skin. But as it stands, I feel nothing but mortification.

His gaze softens as he examines my pooled eyes, and for a moment, it seems like the edge of his anger fades, but all too soon his nostrils flare again. “Stop.”

“God, I–I’m so sorry.” My eyes snap to the red welt on his forehead. “Are you okay? I didn’t mean—”

I lift my hand instinctively to touch his head—Please, God, save me from myself—when his snarl squeezes past his lips. “I said,stop.” At my nod, with a stray tear dropping onto his wet hand, he releases my wrist. “Send Arlo here at once.”

I rise from his lap, still nodding with my shoulders slumped. So much for good posture and winning battles against dragons or whatnot.

“I’m so sorry,” I whisper, wanting to shut myself inside the nearest bathroom and live out the rest of my days there.

His words hit my back as I’m rushing to the waitstand, avoiding the sympathetic gazes of everyone watching. “Oh, and Ms. Kavi? That’s about all the incompetence this restaurant can handle for one day. Please turn in your badge and clock out. This will be your last day working here.”

Chapter Two

KAVI

From: Kavi

To: Nathan

Date: June 3 10:22 AM

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