The Last Strike by A.R. Henry

Author:A.R. Henry [Henry, A.R.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2021-10-30T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 13

The man sitting across from me doesn’t have a single speck of grey in his beard. He definitely doesn’t have any grey in his hair either—since he’s bald.

It’s been two very long weeks since I’ve seen the man with my new favorite shade of brown hair color. I would be lying if I said I hadn’t thought of Weston every day because I have. I want to call and ask if he’s been hiking, or if he wanted to take Cami to the Museum of Art with me.

But I can’t do either of those, and the disappointment I feel is starting to come off of me in waves. Ash threatened me yesterday that if I didn’t start cheering up, she would take me to the doctor for happy pills. Whatever that means. I did come clean to her about how I was falling for him. It was a total lie though, because I have fallen for him.

So, here I am. Making an attempt to move on with my life at dinner with Tom. A partner at Ash’s cousin’s law firm. He’s almost forty, has a shaved head, and doesn’t care one bit about my new favorite sport.

When I asked him if he liked baseball, he said the only sport worth watching was football, and the night has pretty much gone downhill from there. I’ve really tried giving him the benefit of the doubt—I have—but hearing him talk about himself in the courtroom is really starting to grate my nerves.

Once dinner is over, we walk to the front of the restaurant where I decide I don’t want him walking me to my car. I turn to tell him goodnight, and my eyes connect with chocolate brown ones that have me enraptured.

Weston is walking towards us on the sidewalk with a blonde-haired woman who’s around my height, and I immediately become enraged.

Are you kidding me?

Two weeks ago, he was still Mr. I’m-Never-Dating-Baseball-Man, and now he’s here on a date?

He comes to a stop when he reaches us. For a whole damn second, I honestly think he’s going to ignore me, and keep walking into the restaurant—but he doesn’t.

“Courtney,” He gives me a short nod then proceeds to size up my date.

“Hello, Mr. Bell,” I practically spit the words, “How are you?”

I plaster a fake smile on my face as I take my time searing my gaze into him then flicking my eyes quickly over his date before looking back at him with a face that says, Really? Her? She can’t be your type.

He returns my look with a similar one after assessing my date. He’s completely ignored my question, so I decide it’s time to end this weird little show we’re putting on.

If our dates think it’s strange, they don’t offer any opinions on it, thankfully.

I begrudgingly grab Tom’s arm then say, “Well we were just leaving, goodbye.” Praying he doesn’t see right through my fake smile, I drag Tom off in the direction of my car.

I don’t turn around to see if Weston watches me.

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