Page 5 of Souls and Sorrows

After an awkward beat of silence, she clears her throat and moves on, sashaying away to another table.

Sighing, I finish off my drink, slamming it onto the table with more force than necessary. Palmer studies me over his shot, pursing his lips.

“What?”

He raises a hand in mock surrender. “Nothing. You just seem especially stiff tonight. Everything okay?”

An ache sprouts in my chest, picking away at my heart like an ice sculpture, and I briefly consider confiding in him. Truth be told though, there isn’t much to say; on the surface, everything is fucking peaches and cream.

I’ve got the coveted corner office in one of the premier business law firms on the East Coast and the seniority title to match it. Never mind that the position is nearly unheard of for someone who’s been in the field less than eight years, but after securing one of our largest clients last quarter, I was promoted.

Much to the dismay of several associates who have significant experience over me. But it’s not like I didn’t earn the title, given that I’ve clocked more billable hours during my time at Cupid & Associates than our top three attorneys combined.

Beneath all the glamour though, something is missing. Like the middle piece of a jigsaw puzzle that got swept away from the box and never replaced before it was sealed.

I’m just not sure what it is, and I don’t want to burden Palmer with the unknown.

“Everything’s perfect,” I tell him instead, leaning over to take a shot. “But I’m not going home with anyone.”

“We’ll see.”

Bringing the shot to my lips, I down it quickly, shooting a glance across the restaurant as a group of scantily clad women traipse inside, their obnoxious laughter bouncing off the dark-paneled walls.

They take one of the individual tables closer to the stage, a redhead nearly toppling over as she goes to sit. Her friend, a leggy blonde in a red sequined minidress, grasps her shoulders and holds her upright.

She bends, red polyester stretching tight across her heart-shaped ass, and says something in the other girl’s ear that makes her giggle. Golden hair spills down her tanned back as she flips her head up, scanning the room with narrowed eyes, like she’s looking for someone.

Our gazes intersect for a split second, and I grit my teeth against the whirlwind of emotion her attention causes. The delicate angles of her face seem oddly familiar, and I squint through the poor lighting, trying to place her.

My dick pulses, just slightly, as I watch her watching me. My hands find the table, gripping tight. She stares, unashamed in her perusal, and her tiny pink tongue darts out, laving over her plump bottom lip.

After a beat, I notice that I’m still staring, glued to her form as she makes the rounds with her girlfriends. Everyone else in the club seems interested in the group now, which should turn me off to her entirely.

But for some reason, I find myself not wanting to look away.

“You’re ogling,” Palmer mutters, taking another shot. He pinches his eyes shut as the blue liquid goes down, then wrenches them open again, pinning me with a look.

“Not ogling. Observing.”

“Are you really arguing semantics right now?”

I shrug, forcing nonchalance as I lean back in the booth, stretching my arms across the leather back. “You know what they say. You can take the man out of the courtroom…”

“Lawyers,” he scoffs.

Reclining slightly in my seat, I watch as a woman with brown skin and short, braided hair places a sash around the blonde’s shoulders. She gives a little twirl, fixing the white fabric against her breasts, meeting my eyes again.

My throat constricts as I read the rhinestone letters.

Bride-to-be.

Inexplicable disappointment roars like an angry tide inside my chest, and I tense my jaw, turning to look at my brother.

He smirks, and I reach past him, grabbing two more shots.

“Well, look who just got interesting.”

Rolling my eyes, I down the drinks one after the other.

---