Page 40 of A World Without You
“And also...you could use a drink.”
I swallow, realizing I’m parched in about ten different ways. I look down at the files I have left on the cart.
Bennett glances at his watch. “It’s quitting time, Liv. Let’s go. My treat.”
NINE
Friday, December 8th
––––––––
ILET THE BREATH RUMBLEout of my lips, stare down at my second glass of cabernet at Von’s 1000 Spirits, and fiddle with my camera.
“Do you always have a camera with you?”
“Yes,” I answer, adjusting the lens and peering through it.
“Why?”
I pull it away from my face. “Because you never know when a moment is going to be beautiful.”
He smiles in response, leaning back in the chair, peering out over the restaurant, twisting his beer between his middle finger and thumb.
I take advantage of Bennett gracing the world with one of his rare smiles and snap a picture. The shutter makes him drop his smile and he scowls at me, I flash a triumphant grin. “You should smile more, Bennett. You’re rather handsome,” I say, pulling up the photo on the preview screen.
He is handsome, smiling or not, but the way his eyes glint under the Christmas lights in the low-lit bar and the way his smile softens the sharp lines of his face make him painfully beautiful.
I show him the picture with a suggestive raise of my eyebrows. “New dating profile pic!”
“No.” He’s short, barely looking at the photograph. I pout, turn the camera off, and return it to my bag before taking a sip of wine.
My smile must have dropped, and my expression must have revealed the sinking mortification calcifying in my gut from earlier today because Bennett says, “Tell me what’s wrong, kid. Because I know it has nothing to do with me not wanting to use that picture for a dating profile.”
I look up at him, sitting across from me at the lacquered oak table. Christmas lights are strung around the ceiling, and wreaths adorn the liquor shelves. Christmas music hums with the bar chatter, and the crisp chill that wafts through the front doors reminds me how joyful the holidays used to make me feel. This year, it just makes me feel entirely uncertain and wildly undeserving.
“Well, for starters, I’m a complete asshole.” Bennett kind of laughs and sips his beer. I tilt my head and stare at him. “For real. I’m a complete jackass. Here I am, Olivia Fucking Baker, running back to this city that’s much smaller than it seems, by the way. My pride is a dumpster fire. My career is nonexistent. My supervisor is an actual infant and thinks I don’t know the alphabet. My ex hates me—”
