“Nice to meet you. What are you drinking?”
“I—um—”
Kace’s head tilted to the side. “You good?”
“Yeah, I haven’t talked to Brent today, didn’t realize his back was still hurting.” Not a lie. Not a lie. “I should go . . . um . . . check on him?”
Yes, I was having trouble forming sentences. Yes, I’d said the last phrased like a question. No, I wasn’t above beating a hasty retreat to save face at this juncture. Which was better than the alternative. Namely, me blurting out that I wasn’t dating Brent because I was a giant screw-up and—
Go.
I spun then realized I might as well leave the cookies, because if I didn’t, I would probably eat them all and end up too big for my clothes.
And still feeling like an asshole.
“Here,” I blurted, shoving the platter onto the bar. “Snickerdoodles. Enjoy.”
Then I spun again, starting toward the exit.
“Brent chose a strange one,” I heard Anabelle say. “A good one, I think, based on the sheer volume of baked goods on this plate, but still a strange one.”
“If she keeps bringing cookies like these, she can be as strange as she wants,” Kace said, and at the door to the hall, I peeked over my shoulder to see he had already peeled back the plastic wrap and was shoving snickerdoodles in his mouth like it was his last day on Earth.
A group of giggling women pushed past me at that moment, one declaring in a loud voice, “Heather, you will not get me drunk tonight. I have to go home and—”
“Do Colin!” another woman in the group interjected.
They began cackling, continuing to tease the first woman, so I couldn’t hear what Anabelle said in response to Kace.
But I did see her reach for a cookie.
They couldn’t fix everything, but apparently, they could help people look beyond my strangeness.
I’d chalk that up to success.
Mostly because I didn’t have anything else going for me.
Two more days went by.
Two days of me showing up at the bar with baked goods—cinnamon rolls and chocolate custard hand pies.
Two more days of no Brent in sight.
At least I was able to play off my disappointment when I strode into the back room, determined that this time I would make good on my apology. That this time I would see him and make things right.
But he wasn’t there.
Though each time, Anabelle was, and it turned out, I was right. She was confident. And funny, with a quick wit that I couldn’t begin to match, but one that somehow didn’t make me feel dumb.
Instead, she mostly had me laughing like a loon.
Which was a good thing, because I was feeling more guilty and miserable as the week went on. I knew Brent had the next two nights off, and because I didn’t know where he lived but had been pretending, in the most oblique terms possible, that everything was fine between us, I couldn’t exactly ask Kace for his address.
Kace probably couldn’t give it to me anyway.
Employer-employee confidentiality. Was that even a thing?
“And then I told him that just because I’m Filipino doesn’t mean I’m the resident expert on all things Asian,” Anabella was saying, drawing my focus back to where it should be. On her and the conversation we were having during one of her spare moments.
“I thought all Asian countries were the same,” I deadpanned.
Then panicked, thinking she hadn’t gotten the fact that I was deadpanning and—
She chuckled and clapped a hand on my shoulder. “I like you, Iris. Even if you’ve never tasted Halo-halo before.”
I grinned. “You promised to remedy that for me soon.”
“And so I shall,” Anabelle said, pushing off the bar and turning in the direction of a customer. “For a price.”
“I’ll make good on my end,” I told her with a wave. I needed to go anyway, to keep up my charade of Everything Is Fine in Brent and Iris World.
But I didn’t think my acting was very good. Kace was studying me closely, eyes unreadable, although the concern in his expression was easily discernible. I had two schools of thought on this matter. One, I’d be able to fix things with Brent, enough to convince everyone that we’d parted sort of amicably and I could occasionally spend my nights at Bobby’s, slowly sipping on a glass of wine, laughing with Anabelle and with Brooke, when she wasn’t on deadline.
Two, I’d never be able to fix it.
And Bobby’s would be off the table.
I didn’t want it off the table. I really liked being