Page 103 of Butter My Biscuit

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Once I’m dressed, I go downstairs, then make my way to the bar on the beach. There’s a karaoke stage, and tourists sing their hearts out like they’re going to be the next American Idol.

The bartender walks up, and she’s smiling. “What can I getcha?”

“Laid,” I say with a laugh. “But for now, I guess I’ll take a lemon drop.”

Moments later, the light-yellow liquid with a sugary rim is being set in front of me. I pull out my phone and snap a picture of me with my drink, then post it. I’ve been trying to get used to doing things alone, settling in the uncomfortableness until I learn to appreciate the loneliness of losing my bestie.

Sucking in a deep breath, I try to write the speech I’m supposed to give at my sister’s dinner. I’ve put it off all year long, not able to find anything positive about love, not when every relationship I have fails. I’ve googled it, and I even asked stupid AI to try to write me something I could use, but it was like hot garbage on a summer day. I type up a few sentences and set my phone down when a guy walks up and takes the seat next to me.

The cologne is familiar, and when I turn my head, I don’t see the man I thought I’d see. It’s Chip’s brother, Anthony.

“You’re lookin’ pretty lonely over here,” he says as I gulp the rest of my drink. Then, he turns to the bartender. “She’ll have another one of those.”

“Trying to get me drunk?” I ask him.

He smirks. “Nah. You just look like you could use another one.”

“It’s that stupid speech I have to give. It’s making me nervous,” I admit. “I’m the last person on the planet who should be talking about love.”

The bartender sets my drink down, then looks at me and tilts her head toward him. “Isn’t this what you asked for earlier?”

I laugh and wave her away. Anthony thinks she’s talking about the drink, but she’s talking about him.

“Let me read what you have.”

I unlock my phone and give it to him. He reads over it and hands it back.

“You’re one of those hopeless romantics, aren’t you?”

“How’d you guess that from this?”

“Because love is messy. It’s like this ball of yarn that you’re obsessed with untangling, but every time you think you’ve figured it out, more knots appear. What you’ve written is perfect love.” He shakes his head. “Doesn’t exist.”

“Sure it does.”

He laughs in my face. “With that attitude, you’ll be single, like me, for the rest of your life. You’ll keep searching for something you’ll never find.”

“Oh, so you think you have something better?”

He glances at me. “I’m going to make it up on the spot when I get there. No pressure, right?”

“Too brave. Nope. Not happening,” I say, smiling, and the conversation lulls.

Anthony looks around, noticing I’m alone. “You don’t have anyone with you?”

“Nope. I came alone after being ditched. Twice. Actually, three times.” I shrug. “My bad luck, I guess.”

“Or maybe it’s your good luck,” he offers. “I’m here. Had a beefhead been next to you, I’d not have walked over and chatted.”

This makes me chuckle. “Beefhead. In my part of Texas, that can mean many things.”

We drink for a few hours, talking about everything and nothing. He’s easy to chat with, and he keeps a conversation without my effort, which I appreciate. When I talk with him, it’s almost like those intrusive thoughts that have been taking over for the last few weeks vanish.

Maybe Harrison figured something out. Maybe moving on and finding someone else is the key to getting over what happened. Maybe that’s the answer to this? But he also warned me that one-night stands won’t fill the void.

I’m willing to try anything that will make this agonizing feeling in the pit of my stomach go away.

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