Page 54 of Until Next Time
“I can’t. Please believe me. I want to so damn bad. More than anything in this fucking world, but I just can’t, Birdie.” His voice sounds like it’s cracking. Like he’s genuinely sad. It almost sounds broken.
I take my finger and tap the bottom of his chin, nudging his chin up to make his eyes level to mine.
“You’ve made me feel like enough of a fool already, Dawsen. Please just leave me alone. I need one more week on the mural and then I’ll be out of your way. Let’s just try to get through that and not make this weird for everyone.” I take a long look into those eyes. Those eyes I love. I take one last look and grab my drink and head back to the table. Leaving him there, taking my broken heart with me.
34
Dawsen
It’s absolutely wild how one day you can be one thing, and then the next you can be something completely different because of one singular choice you’ve made.
There have been two choices in my life that I’ve made that have changed the trajectory of things for me. And not in a good way. I chose to get into a bar fight and drink too much. That choice led to my mother’s death, which simultaneously ruined my dad’s life as well as my own. I chose to tell Birdie Banks that I’ve always wanted her. I chose to tell her in the worst way and with the worst timing and now she wants nothing to do with me.
It seems as though I’m shit at decision making.
It’s been a long week of seeing Birdie everyday, successfully avoiding me, and me trying to respect that. The way her eyes were wet with tears when she told me to leave her alone at the bar—I didn’t think this could hurt any worse. But being thereason behind her tears and hurt. It gutted me. I hate myself for it.
She’s almost completely finished with the mural, and it looks so fucking good. I had no idea what she was going to come up with, but it’s insanely beautiful. It’s even better than I could have ever imagined. Her style is so unique, and I love how thoughtful she was with every stroke and detail.
She hasn’t spoken to me much at all except for some random“thank yous”to acknowledge the coffees I’ve had waiting for her, and the few updates of her timeline, which brings us to today. Her last day. She said she’d be finished by closing time, and if I know Birdie, I know she’s going to make damn sure she is, so she doesn’t have to see my sorry ass here anymore.
I slide between working at The Mercantile and Southbound today. The tourists always flood in right around Christmas, so we’re especially busy. I’m putting up string lights in both the shop and the winery today to make it feel a little more festive and cozy for the season. Savannah also talked me into having a Christmas tree in here as well, to which I obliged as long as I didn’t have to do any of the decorating. I’m not feeling particularly full of holiday cheer these days.
I’m up on a ladder in the winery when I see Max and his ridiculous car pull into one of the newly vacated parking spots outside.Awesome. As if it wasn’t torture enough seeing Birdie leave with him that night at The Brick, looking so beautiful, now I have to watch him lay claim on her in my own damn winery.
I finish securing the last string of lights before heading down the ladder. I close it up, and carry it towards the back of the shop and return it to the storage closet.
I decide to make myself busy and round the tasting counter to see if Greg needs any help with service.
“My man. You look like a tiger stalking it’s prey. Down boy.” Greg says to me, using his hands to make a show of it.
“What?” I say defensively, I’m still locked on Max and how he’s annoyingly close to Birdie. I can tell she’s annoyed by the way her shoulders are tensed and she’s taken a step or two back. And truthfully I do feel like a tiger stalking it’s prey.”
“If looks could kill, you’d be jailed for the murder of that fancy man over there.” Greg says with a laugh.
“Fucking asshole.” I huff under my breath as I pick up a glass to be polished.
Greg just laughs and shakes his head knowingly, grabbing the tray of glasses he just poured and heads off to one of his tables.
I’m still polishing when I look up and see Max has appeared and leaned against the bar in front of me, smiling, like a chummy fucking prick.
“Hey man!” He says, cheerfully. Like he thinks his presence will excite me or something.
“Hey, How’s it going?” I ask, trying to sound interested and not like I’ve been making up scenarios in my head about kicking the shit out of him.
“So good. Just came in to have a drink and hang while Birdie finishes up. So good, right?” He asks, turning to face Birdie and jutting his chin towards her, like he’s just discovered how talented she is.
“She’s the best. What can I get you to drink? On the house.”
“Yeah, awesome man, I’ll have a glass of Chardonnay.”
I nod, and give him a pour of my least favorite Chardonnay.
Just when I think he’s going to turn and leave, he does the opposite. He slides up onto the bar stool, leaning a little closer, “So uhh, you’ve known Birdie for awhile, right?” He asks in almost a hushed voice.
I just stare at him for a moment. Awhile? Yeah, I’ve known Birdie forawhile,asshole.
“Yeah, why?” Is all I give him, my hands propped on the bar, trying to not come off as a dick.
