Page 45 of A Magnolia Move-In
Determined to make this evening successful, I decided it was best to get out of the kitchen. I settled down in the living room and turned on the TV. They were showing reruns ofMurder Mysteries, so I left the channel where it was. Time ticked by and Spencer was still MIA.
I glanced at the clock on the wall.
6:45
Was I wrong? I could have sworn he’d said tonight. He was going to plan something for us. Had he forgotten?
I clicked on my phone to see that I’d only missed a text from Maggie. A wine rep had stopped by today and left her with some bottles. She was wondering if I wanted to come over and try them with her.
Even though my evening was beginning to sour, I couldn’t help but smile at my daughter’s offer. I sent off a quick reply that I would love to, and that tomorrow night would be best.
She responded with a thumbs-up, and then my phone went quiet.
I sighed as I stared at the lit screen for a few more seconds before clicking it off. I set it on the side table next to me and rested my hands on my lap as I stared at the TV. The show was on break, and there was a chicken dancing across the screen. It was a commercial for something—I really wasn’t paying attention to what it was trying to sell me.
At 7:30, my eyes grew heavy. I startled myself awake a few times, feeling more and more deflated each time I did. I’d been completely wrong about Spencer. He had never intended on taking me anywhere. I’d been a fool to wait around for nothing.
Fate was never going to let me find happiness with the opposite sex again. I was destined to be alone.
Forever.
By eight o’clock, my body was stiff, and my stomachwas rumbling. I was no longer going to just lie around, waiting for Spencer to return. I was going to heat up some soup and eat it in my bed while watching Hallmark reruns on my computer.
Whatever Spencer and I would have had was never going to be fulfilled. I might as well throw in the towel now.
The microwave was humming as I leaned against the counter. I watched the red bowl turn as the canned chicken noodle soup that I’d dumped in there started to bubble at the sides.
The timer beeped at the same time my phone chimed.
I picked it up and pressed it to my ear as I searched through the drawers for the oven mitts. “Hello?”
“Penny?” Spencer’s soft, slightly slurred voice caused me to pause.
“Spencer?”
“See, I have someone,” Spencer said, his voice growing fainter as if he were speaking to someone else.
There were some scraping noises, and a moment later, a man I didn’t recognize asked, “Are you friends with Spencer Orion?”
“Yes.” That felt like a lie. I mean, were we friends? I thought we were, but apparently, Spencer did not. At least, in my experience, friends didn’t make plans and then completely ditch them without letting you know.
“Great. I’m going to need you to come get him.”
I cleared my throat, feeling completely confused. “What’s going on?”
“He’s at the Irish Pub. He’s drunk.”
Ah. I should have picked that up by the slur of his voice. “Irish Pub?” I asked as I found a pen and a scratch piece of paper on the counter.
“Yes.”
“I’ll be there.”
The bartender wasn't in a chatty mood. He thanked me and then hung up. I took a moment to search on my phone for where Irish Pub was. It was a bar located across the bridge.
Leaving my soup in the microwave, I slipped on my shoes and grabbed my purse. I was out the door in a flash.
The drive was faster than I’d anticipated. I pulled into the parking lot and got out. There were a few inebriated men hovering around the patio out front. Music blared from inside. When I pulled open the door, it only got louder, and I was met with the smell of sweat and alcohol.
