There’s a picture of Davis with his arms around a news anchor lady, Annabelle Rhys, from channel five. The headline reads, A Match Made in Brooklyn.

The keys drop from my hand, and my stomach clenches with a sharp pain. I look up at a sympathetic Todd.

He grabs me hard and yanks me to his chest. “He’s a prick. If he doesn’t know how good he has it with you, then he doesn’t deserve you in his life.”

Tears escape my eyes, no matter how hard I try to push them back. I guess I didn’t realize how much I liked Davis until finding out that, once again, I’m the second choice. This time, to another woman.

Todd swipes my keys from the floor and puts them on the table. He secures me in his arm and guides me over to the couch.

“Did you eat? I’m going to make you something.” He places me on the couch and abandons me for the kitchen.

He’s like my mother. Food fixes everything.

“I’m not hungry,” I tell him, even though I’ll probably eat a gallon of ice cream once the shock is over and the depression hits.

“A drink? I’ll make you a drink.”

Cabinet doors rattle open and shut behind me.

“No.” I sit there and stare at the wooden panels on the floor.

“What do you want me to do?” he asks, pacing back and forth, in limbo about where to go.

“Nothing.” I fight the tears that want to uncontrollably spill out.

The couch dips next to me, and Todd wraps his arm around my shoulders. I snuggle close and curl my feet up and under me. His hand glides down and up my shoulder, back and forth, in a soothing nature, as his lips periodically kiss the top of my head.

I’m giving him the shitty part of me, the one I hide from others, except for Tatiana. I lean up and see Todd pressing on his phone with his other hand.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” I sit up and wipe my tears.

“For what?” He places his phone on the coffee table.

“You probably have a date, and instead, you’re here, helping me pick up the pieces.”

“Hey.” His finger pushes my chin up. “I have nowhere to be but here.”

A gorgeous blue eye winks, and my shoulders slump.

“Okay?” He dips his head to find my eyes.

“Okay.” My voice is shallow and insecure.

“If you must know, I was messaging Tatiana.” He picks up his phone and shows me. “She’s almost home.”

He smiles, and I smile back because she’ll make it all better.

“Thank you, Todd.”

“You never have to thank me.” He retreats into the kitchen.

“What are you doing?” I rise to my feet and slide onto a barstool.

“Getting prepared for when Tatiana returns.” He reaches into my cabinet and grabs a few martini glasses.

“Oh, I really think this is an ice-cream run, not a drink-until-I’m-stupid one.”

“Then, it’s perfect.”

Tatiana busts through the door and holds up a brown paper bag. “I’ve got ice cream.”

“And I have the alcohol.”

My head pings back to Todd. He’s smiling and holding up a bottle of vodka.

“Together, that makes ice-cream martinis,” they say in unison.

If I didn’t know better, I’d think they’d rehearsed this spiel.

Tatiana walks steadily to me and places the bag on the table before she swings her arms around me. “I’m sorry Mr. Hot Pads ended up being a burned dish.”

I laugh, and she tightens her grip.

“That’s what I want to hear.” She pulls back from me. “You’re too good for him.”

“Isn’t that what you always have to say?”

She shakes my shoulders until she makes sure she has my undivided attention. “No. Lia, you might be a dud magnet lately—”

“Hey, now,” Todd says, dishing the ice cream into the martini glasses.

“You don’t count. You’re friend-zoned.” She cocks her eyebrow.

Todd spins around and buries his head in the fridge.

“Unless I’m wrong,” she adds.

Leave it to Tatiana to make tonight worse.

“Tati!” I scream to focus her attention back to me.

Her head comes back my way. “Duds. Yes. But there is a prince out there for you, Lia. We just haven’t found him yet.” She glances to Todd’s back.

Whose head is now buried in the freezer.

She lowers her voice. “Or he hasn’t stepped forward yet.”

I swat her arm and she backs up, laughing and holding her arm like I hurt her. She raises her eyebrows at me and shrugs.

Tatiana is constantly insinuating that Todd wants more than a friendship with me. She’s crazy. If he did, I’m sure he would have made a move by now.

“Finally!” Todd pulls out a tub of orange sherbet. “I knew I brought this over. I’m surprised you girls haven’t finished it off.” He’s completely ignorant to our conversation.

We look at him with blank stares, and a wide brimming his lips.

“You’ll be impressed in a minute,” he says.

A few minutes later, Todd places two martini glasses in front of Tatiana and me. We dig in with our spoons and both moan as soon as the coldness hits our taste buds.

Todd exaggerates a bow. “Thank you. Thank you very much.”

Tatiana’s phone breaks up our laughter, and it’s my turn to cock my eyebrows at her. She digs it out of her purse then glances our way.

“Go.” I shoo her with my hand.

She hugs me tight. “I trust you’re in good hands?” She lightly kicks me with her foot.

“I’ll take care of our girl,” Todd tells her.

She scurries down the hall.

“Who’s the guy?” Todd asks after we hear her door click shut.

“I don’t know, but she’s always on her phone or computer with a big ole smile on her face.”

I shrug, and he digs in to his ice cream.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Amelia

I arrive at CHOPs early with the hope that I’ll sneak behind the bar before Davis knows I’m here. Crossing my fingers, I pray he continues with his usual MO and keeps our relationship private, never wavering across the line between business and pleasure.

Quickly, I rush in and out of the employee break room before Lucy can ask me how I’m doing. I glance into Davis’s office, finding the lights off, and release the breath I was holding. Davis tried to call me two more times last night, and he texted me last night and this morning. I’m guessing he’s seen that his little secret of playing two women is out, and he wants to feed me some bullshit line.

Midway through my shift, the bar is busy with the happy-hour working patrons unwinding after their long days. Davis hasn’t shown his face, and I’m keeping up pretty well with little wait times. I think the best thing about being a bartender isn’t hearing the stories the customers tell me. It’s overhearing or eavesdropping on conversations, especially the let’s-meet-for-drinks blind dates. They keep lingering thoughts of Davis at bay.

I escape into the kitchen to grab a scallops appetizer and stop on my heels at the sight of Davis. He’s all decked out in his chef jacket and hat, scurrying around the kitchen.

“What are you doing here?” I snidely ask.

He turns around after hearing my voice. He eyes me then concentrates on the pan in front of him again. “Steve’s sick.” His voice is sharp and cold.

Damn Steve. He should have called Todd.

“Oh,” I respond, focusing on Brent, the line cook. “Do you have the order of scallops ready?” My fingers tap along the metal, waiting for my dish so I can escape this room.

“Amelia, I need to see you when your shift is over,” Davis says over the flame rising from the pan. He flips it with a flick of his wrist, and he tosses the towel over his shoulder.

My mouth opens to say no.

“No excuses,” he adds.

I roll my eyes at his audacity, acting like I’m a damn child after the stunt he pulled.

“I have to go somewhere. I don’t have time,” I give my excuse.

Brent hands me the plate of scallops.

“Hey, I have an idea. Since you’re so chummy with Annabelle Rhys, maybe you can get her to cover my showing.”