Page 45 of Fly Back to Me
He was never mine to claim in the first place. And maybe Lauren was right. Maybe my imagination is too giant for my own good.
“Enjoy your drink, Olivia.”
I prop my elbow up, resting my chin in my palm as Cade disappears around the bar. My eyes wander, a blank expression surely cutting into the mingling bartenders and customers. But if I’m going to be rejected, I might as well take advantage of being surrounded by alcohol.
My free hand winds around my glass, and I sip on the ale. The notes of cinnamon don’t taste nearly as delicious as they did a minute ago, but Cade was nice enough to pay for it. Might as well hold up my end of the bargain.
I’ve been demoted to a charity case.
Wretched.
I blow out a small breath, the ends of my curtain bangs whisking from the draft when a voice cuts through. “Are our drinks that terrible?”
My posture straightens, Jake’s familiar blue eyes now invading my line of sight.
I toss a smile as I shake my head. “No, this is actually very good.”
“So,” he says, planting both palms on the glossy counter. “Penny for your thoughts?”
“Ugh.” I sigh, waving a hand as I sink back in the stool. “Trust me. You wouldn’t be interested. You’re better off asking anyone else in this brewery for an entertaining story.”
He retrieves a white rag from his jeans pocket, wiping the surface between us. “I can respect that. But if you need a stronger dose, we still have the sour you enjoyed last weekend on tap.”
“I totally could use a dose of something,” I grumble. “Should I bother asking for tequila?”
His pearly whites flash in an instant, chest bouncing through a chuckle. “Sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but this is a brewery, ma’am.”
I crinkle my forehead in feign surprise. “Really? I totally thought this was a distillery instead. You really should consider including ‘brewery’ in the name of your company.”
Jake lifts off the counter to stuff the cloth back in his jeans pocket. “Okay, I know we’re joking, but you’d be shocked how many people a day ask if we serve liquor.”
“I was definitely one of those people at one point,” I admit flatly. “Now I know for sure that bartender is talking shit to someone else right now.”
He laughs, tilting his head sympathetically. “I won’t judge you too much.”
I shoot a small grin, raising my drink to him. “Much appreciated.”
“Just call me over if you want that sour, okay?”
When he shuffles away, I hold a finger out while gulping down the ale. “Wait.”
“Yeah?”
My face contorts apologetically. “I didn’t mean to say that your drink sucked last weekend. It wasn’t true at all.”
“I appreciate the sentiment, but I was told to play along. No hard feelings,” he says, flashing a smirk.
I bob my head, cheeks burning from my blatant gullibility. “Of course you were.”
My chest slumps over the counter again, eyes fastening to the back of Jake’s blond crewcut as he fades into the crowd. I rest my chin on my knuckles, people-watching through the remainder of the seasonal ale Cade poured me.
Boy, is Lauren going to have a field day with this one.
The reclaimed brick wall calls for my attention, my gaze landing on it so I can concentrate on my bitter thoughts. If he was truly in love with his girlfriend, wouldn’t that question have been the easiest one for him to answer? There must be a reason his defenses shot up seamlessly.
Right?
Or maybe I just need to accept the fact that everything I concocted in my mind was a fantasy. It’s some overly dramatic tale that only comes alive when it’s embedded in my mind. It’s not meant to unravel in real life.
