Page 67 of Keeping Kaitlyn

A call to the hotel’s security office had the footage of her walking through the lobby on the same date she signed the papers on my phone in less than fifteen minutes. The only thing she took with her was her backpack full of notebooks. She was by herself.

She stopped at the front desk, had a brief conversation with the man behind it, walked out of the hotel, and disappeared.

Whatever prompted her to make her decision to leave, she made it alone.

It took me nearly two weeks to sign them. I told myself that if she came back, that would be all I’d need to forgive her. I wouldn’t need an explanation. I wouldn’t ask her what happened. Why she left because she came back and that would be enough. It took two weeks of sitting in that hotel room, alone, waiting for her, before I was able to accept the fact that it was never going to happen.

Kait was gone.

She wasn’t coming back.

I signed the divorce papers and gave them to Jerard, asking him to file them with the same county clerk I bribed to expedite our marriage license and then I left too.

I haven’t been to Montana since, but I think about Kait every day. Wonder how she is. Ping pong back and forth between hoping that she’s as miserable as I am and praying that, against all odds, she’s happy—even if it’s not with me.

So, the reason I agreed to work tonight is simple—I needed the distraction and nothing saysdistractionbetter than five-hundred college kids crammed into a bar, the majority of which are looking for some sort of trouble. Logan, Patrick and Con are behind the bar, slinging drinks while Declan and I work the crowd, watching out for the army of shot girls and cocktail waitresses Patrick’s amassed as they weave through the crowd selling shots and taking drink orders, trying to relieve the pressure at the bar.

“Grace just got here,” Tess’s voice crackles against my ear via the earpiece I have stuck in it. “Someone want to come sit on the door while I help her get the beer tub set up?” Tess has been working the door, checking IDs and collecting covers for the past few hours. When we hit capacity, she switched to threatening to break her foot off in people’s asses when they complained about being turned away.

“Coming.” Turning away from the bar, I make my way through the crowd, on my way to the front entrance to find Tess parked on a stool in front of the door, facing off with a bunch of puffed-up frat bros.

“Our friends are already inside,” one of them says, lifting a hand to point at a cluster of douchebags by the jukebox. “Stop being such a bi—” Looking up from Tess, he sees me coming and clams up.

“Don’t stop on my account,” I tell him while I switch places with Tess. “Please, continue.” Parking myself in front of the open door, I lean my shoulder against the wall, arms crossed over my chest, and smile. “Such awhat?”

“Nothing,” Frat bro mumbles before stepping back onto the sidewalk.

“I had a feeling that’s what you said.” Cutting him a smirk, I raise my tone to announce the rest to the long line behind them. “Gilroy’s is currently at capacity—you can either wait patiently for people to leave or you can fuck off.” When I say it, more than half of the line drifts away, including the misguided frat boy and his buddies, talking about trying their luck at other bars that might be less crowded while the other half settles in to wait.

“I already said that,” Tess grumbles behind me. “Why are they listening to you and not me?”

“Because they don’t know you carry a wrench in your back pocket.” Flashing her a grin, I jerk my chin at the bar behind me. “Go help Grace so I can get back on the floor before midnight.”

“Gawd, I can’t wait for this night to be over so I can go home,” she mutters before she shoves herself into the crowd. Seconds later, Declan appears like he’s been watching for her and picks her up. Arms and legs wrapped around him like tentacles, he carries her to the bank of pool tables where Grace sets up her beer tub.

That’s because you have someone you want to gohomewith.

As soon as I think it, I shove the thought aside. Finding someone to take home isn’t the problem. It never has been. The problem is that there’s no one Iwantto take home. My brief relationship with Tess was my first and last attempt to move on from Kait and all it did was prove to me that it can’t be done.

“Hey—do I know you?”

Looking up from my boots, I find a trio of girls at the front of the line, huddled under the outdoor space heater someone had the forethought to drag out here, one of them looking right at me.

“No.” It’s been six years since my brief, unwelcome stint as a tabloid staple—long enough to be forgotten—but it still happens. Someone recognizes me. Comes up to me on the street while I’m with my nephew. Approaches me in the lobby of the hotel—hey, you’re that guy, right? The guy who used to date Lexi Chase?

When it happens like that, it’s not a big deal. I usually just look at them and saynever heard of herbut this is different. This is where I work. Where I find my much-needed distraction and if that gets ruined by some girl who watches too much TMZ, I’m going to lose my shit.

“Are you sure?” Her gaze crawls over my bare arms taking in my tattoos before lingering on my hands. The tattoos on the backs of them played a key role in proving my innocence in the accident that nearly killed Brian Maxwell. “You look familiar.”

Deciding to distract her with bullshit, I push the corner of my mouth up in a lopsided grin. “I’m sure,” I tell her, dragging my gaze from her feet to her face. “I think I’d remember meeting you.”

When I say it, her eyes flare wide and the two girls behind her start to whisper to each other behind their hands. Before she can say anything, a guy squeezes past me, leading a pair of womenonto the sidewalk while making plans to ring in thenew year in private.While the guy orders an Uber, I do a quick assessment of his companions. While not completely sober, neither one of them are drunk or disoriented. As soon as they’ve cleared the building, I look at the trio of girls who are still staring at me. “Tonight’s your lucky night,” I tell them, deciding to forego the cover. “Bar’s serving drinks in plastic cups with lids tonight for your safety—leave the lids on.If you need help, find someone on the floor in a SECURITY shirt.”

“I’d rather come find you,” the girl who recognized me says before her friends drag her into the crowd where a they’re instantly swallowed up by a wave of partiers.

Alone and anonymous again, I spend the next twenty minutes staring off into middle space before the earpiece tucked into my ear crackles again. “Tess is on her way back to you,” Declan says. “I’ve got the pool tables—I need you on the other side, watching the bathrooms.”

“Got it.” As soon as I catch sight of Tess, pushing her way through the crowd toward me, I abandon my post. It’s almost midnight and everyone who was waiting to get in has given up and either gone home or found someplace else to be.

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