Page 25 of Remember When We
Her brows raised and this time she actually did smile. It just didn’t reach her eyes. “Fine, as you can see.” She shrugged and motioned to all around her.
The place was packed which was always a good sign.
“You work here?”
“Yeah turns out I’m more of a business woman than what I thought. Better than Dad.”
“You don’t teach?”
She held my gaze and looked uneasy at the question. “Teaching didn’t really work out. But hey, I’m good. This is a good thing for me, running the bar and being boss.”
Lyssa had wanted nothing more than to be a teacher. She wanted to teach English literature. She got a scholarship to Browns, because she graduated top of her class. She had the highest GPA in her freshman year. There was no way all that passion just didn’t work out in one way or another for her to pursue her career goals.
“Okay, well that’s great.”
“So, what can I get you?”
I almost forgot that I was at the bar and people around me were placing orders with the other two bartenders milling around her.
It was the way she asked. It was so businesslike, like she didn’t know me, or like we’d just met.
The last thing she did when we’d last saw each other was slap me. I deserved it just not for the reason she thought. I deserved it for the lie.
“Just water.” I told her, and on that she grabbed a glass, filled it with water and handed it to me.
She was about to move away like I was just some stranger or a customer she was serving, but I reached for her hand and grabbed her.
“Lyssa,” I began, but I didn’t know how to continue. I didn’t know what to say. What could I say after an eight year absence? After the way we parted last time I had no right to even touch her. I should be grateful the doll showed me any kind of pleasantry at all. I reluctantly released her arm. She gave me one last look then moved down the bar to serve a woman who’d been waiting.
I watched her, like an idiot my eyes followed her for a good twenty minutes, just staring. I had the nerve to call her a child that last time we spoke. I knew it was a damn slap in the face, and what was worse was I told her she lacked experience with men. What a fucking thing to say knowing that the only guy she’d been with was me.
I glanced down at her hand and didn’t see a wedding ring. Not married, didn’t mean she wasn’t with somebody though.
She walked right past me carrying a tray of drinks one of the other bartenders had prepared.
Watching her move over to a table full of important looking guys gave me a full view of her waist down.
Yup, she was still perfect. Better than perfect because she’d grown into her womanly curves that carried a different kind of sexy that could get a guy in trouble, or not pay attention when he should have been.
Dante would have laughed me to scorn, because nothing ever got past me. Put that woman in front of me though and it dimmed my awareness.
One of the guys at the table grabbed her arm, but I’d been too busy staring at her ass to see when he made his move. What I saw was her wrenching her arm free from him. I didn’t even see when she set the drinks on the table.
She gave him a stiff smile. He did it again and pulled her into his lap.
That was when I stood, my body acting on its own accord.
“Stop it.” She winced when he slipped his arm around her waist. “Leave me alone.”
The others –six of them –laughed and the guy opposite them reached for her as well.
Imighthave been able to let it slide to some extent and rough them up a little if they were drunk, but they weren’t. They were all fucking sober in my eyes and no way was I going to sit here like a fucking schmuck and allow them to treat her like that.
I marched over there and stopped just in front of the table. The one who was holding her saw me first, the guy next to him looked like he might have recognized me. But not from Philly, he looked at the cross tattooed on my neck and his eyes bulged.
Good, that was fucking good. If I’d brought Dante who equally had a cross on his neck the guy would have known for fucking certain who we were.
Part of The Four. We had tattoos of crosses on our necks to remember our fallen ones. Claudius was the only one to have his on his cheek. He wore his for his first wife who was murdered by a terrorist, Dante for his sister, and Alex for his brother.
