Page 84 of Country Charm

When I turn to look, I see a busty, black-haired woman sitting at the bar. She’s wearing a skintight, low-cut dress that stops just below her ass if she’s standing, but she’s not, so it shows more skin than I can imagine showing in public. A nightgown honestly covers more. She has large lips, long lashes, and a pointed nose. It all looks masterfully crafted, but I could be wrong.

“Do you know her?” I inquire.

“Hmmmm?” He quickly draws his eyes back to me and looks me up and down. “No, I thought I might know the person next to her, but after looking again, I don’t.”

I’m dressed in black jeans and a loose, blush, chiffon tank. It’s cut low enough to show a hint of cleavage, but not enough to be indecent. The spaghetti straps are tight and reveal my thin neck and shoulders. My chestnut hair is inloose curls behind my back, so I guess maybe I’m not much to write home about either.

Charles’ eyes peek over my shoulder again and I roll my eyes.

“What about that time? Think you recognize them now?” I can’t hold back the bite in my tone.

The girls were right. I’m not in the mood to be here and put up with chauvinistic men. How did I even swipe right on this dog?

“Damn, you got some nerve hitting someone you don’t know with that tone.” He suddenly gives me a flirtatious look and I’m shocked. “What is it you do again?”

I’ve told this guy about my job three times but each time he goes off about his own work and success. I’m not going over this again. I didn’t bring a purse with me, so I just pull my wallet out of my back pocket. I pull out two twenties and put them on the table to cover both his drink and mine.

“I’m an analyst, and no matter how I run this whole situation I see it ending the same way each time. With me leaving me on my own.” His jaw drops a bit, but he recovers quickly. “Better go try and catch the lovely lady’s attention over there before someone else does.” I throw in before marching past him without a second look.

I’m not surprised when he doesn’t argue or follow me out.

Back at my apartment for the first time since Sunday, I notice the space seems stale and lonely. I told Georgie I would stay here tonight because we leave for Mary’s wedding in the morning, but I’m now regretting it after that fiasco of a date.

If there is a day I have confidence Hunter won’t show up, it’s the day before Mary’s wedding weekend. We all took tomorrow off so we can check into the bed andbreakfast and do one last run-through for the rehearsal. This whole thing can’t pass fast enough.

I’m not emotionally present for them right now and I need to be. I don’t know how women constantly go through these ebbs and flows with breakups. It’s more exhausting than tackling three projects at once.

I purposefully ignore the front room, which is completely unlike me, but I can’t stand the idea of being in there right now.

A quick shower turns into a long steam. I sit on my shower floor under the spray, imagining it washing away every atom of tension in my body. A shower steamer would be beneficial today, but I didn’t grab one, and I’m already on the floor, soaking up the heat.

I feel a sensation well up behind my eyes, and I don’t know if I should let it out, or if I need to just take another deep breath. I don’t feel a need to cry; I feel pressure, tension, and stress.

My interview for this new job opportunity is in two weeks and after that, I could have a whole new book written on the life of Cassidy Walker.

I could be off to the Netherlands like ol’ Charles from my awful Tinder date. So, where the interview may offer some stress, there is a positive outlook to match.

The wedding is this weekend, so with the additional stress of planning and finally putting everything together for little Miss Mary, soon-to-be Mrs., I am pumped to have this time with the girls. I am beyond excited for Mary to get this moment with Trent. I can’t wait to see Rose in her flower girl dress because she is too cute.

It can only be Hunter. It can only be that I’ve pushed myself too far into an almost relationship and created a whole mess for myself.

The thoughts of everything I couldn’t imagine wash over me and are replaced with someone else filling that role instead. Another woman laughing in the kitchen, another woman on his wraparound porch waving him in after a day, another woman lying on the chaise in the library with a babe on her chest as Hunter reads out loud to them in his perfect tone.

Another woman.

I can’t control what happens next. I bawl. Tears roll down my face in fat streams mixing with the spray of the shower. I can’t breathe through my nose, and I’m regretting not getting that shower streamer now more than ever.

I let myself sob loudly for a few minutes, the sound bouncing off my tile walls, making me feel worse.

I wrap my arms around myself, lean against the wall, and cry until there is nothing left. My shower is still hot and I’m thankful for the time I have given myself in this moment.

I feel a pinch lighter than before, so I remind myself of the benefit of routine releases of emotions. I make a mental note to add a sad book to my upcoming rotation.

Once I’m well-lotioned and have applied collagen gel patches under my eyes, I get to packing for the upcoming weekend. I make sure I have everything I need to help make Mary’s weekend one she will never forget. She deserves all the bells and whistles.

A weight lingers on my shoulders, and I chalk it up to losing my last single partner in crime. I am now a lone wolf in our little pack, and it doesn’t bother me, but it also doesn’t feel quite right. I don’t want to ever get in the way of large plans because everyone has built families but me.

My mind runs through endless scenarios of the future as I pack. The biggest one is if I get this job and movefarther north, that might make it easier for the girls as they continue to adapt to their domestic lives.

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