I watched him chat up a few other men who were also stupidly overdressed for a hole-in-the-wall bar. They must have been doctors, too. He waved to them and then sat on a stool at the opposite end of the bar, checking his watch, as if he were waiting for someone.
Part of me hoped it was Avery he was waiting for; the other hoped to God it wasn’t, worried what I’d do if it was.
“You okay?” Ginger asked.
“If Avery walks in and sits next to that puke,” I said, holding myself up by the elbow. “Get me out of here before I kill him.”
“You think he’s here for her?” she asked, staring at Doc Rose.
“I’ve got all night, so I guess we’ll find out. Pour me another one.”
“Josh—”
“I said pour me another one.”
She shook her head, placing an empty glass in front of me.
I spent the evening drowning in guilt and then being mad about it. I shouldn’t feel bad. I was right. He shouldn’t have confronted Dr. Rosenberg. I’m an adult. I could have handled it! What the hell was he thinking?
But I hadn’t handled it. Josh had told me a dozen times my friendship with the doctor bothered him. I should have addressed it. But Josh had made his choice. This was my career he was messing with. How could I look Dr. Rosenberg in the eyes and tell him I’m still with the crazy guy who threatened him over nothing?
I washed the three dishes in my sink and then went to JayWok. After looking at the menu, I decided I wasn’t hungry and walked back, stomped up the stairs, and slammed my door behind me. I crossed my arms in a huff, wishing I didn’t have the day off.
The look in his eyes fractured my heart. Being alone in my apartment, looking at my former spare pillow that was supposed to belong to Josh, I was an emotional mess.
My phone rang, and I picked it up, unable to answer it fast enough.
“Deb?” I said, my eyes instantly filling with tears.
“The hell, Avery?”
I sighed. Josh must have already called Quinn.
“I could have handled the situation better,” I admitted. “I could have discussed it with him instead of acting like a spoiled soap opera wife. I mean … good God, handing back the necklace and stomping out? I am supposed to be the reasonable one, and he kept saying practical things like we love each other and I couldn’t just end things. He was right, but he was fucking wrong!”
“Yep.”
I paused, surprised. “Yep? That’s all you have to say?”
“Avery, keep venting. You’re not done.”
My bottom lip trembled. “I shouldn’t have handed him back the necklace. That was overdramatic. That was cruel.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Uh-huh I’m cruel, or uh-huh you’re acknowledging that you’re listening?”
“The latter.”
“So, I screwed up. But a jealous toddler tantrum?” I said, pacing. “We are too old for that. He confronted Dr. Rosenberg! That was fucking insane!” I tripped over the edge of the rug and then kicked at the rolled up corner. “I went there thinking we were going to make a mutual decision to take a step back and slow things down, but the next thing I know, I’m breaking up with him! I broke up with him, but I still love him. What do I do?”
“Um … get back with him? He still loves you,” she said, sounding bored. “He sounded like he was a fucking mess when he called Quinn. All you have to do is forgive him and he’ll learn his lesson and you can keep being gloriously happy.”
I stuttered. “Is it that easy? I mean … people just do that?”
“Yep.”
I thought for a moment, looking around the room at my empty walls and pillow-less couch and curtain-less windows. Josh’s pillow was my favorite thing in the apartment. There was a reason for it. I’d made my point—albeit rather dramatically. Couples fought and made up all the time. We could, too. Maybe.
“He made his bed,” Deb said. “You should lay in it.”
I raked my hair back, flustered. “Would you date a guy like Josh? Who did what he did?”
“Fell in love with a girl and freaked the first time someone threatened to steal her? Oh yeah.”
“Deb,” Quinn said, sounding sleepy in the background.