Love Me Like That (2 page)

Staffing has been rough for the better part of a year. Bar staff is excellent but finding, and keeping, proper management has been a huge burden. I think he’s given up, having grown tired of people getting trained then leaving to work at the bars in the bigger cities, now with a better resume.

He’s working himself into an early grave, but he won’t listen to reason. He’s asked more than once if I’d start progressing to a management position, but that defeats the purpose of me quitting my office job to spend more time with him, as I’d be working most of my shifts opposite of his. Both he and Keira have pushed the idea more than once; every time I’ve told them to leave it alone. I have no desire to run the bar.

He purchased the bar from the original owner when Tom Holder decided it was time for retirement. He was running this bar for Tom when we met but bought it about a year or so after we started dating.

Making my way into the kitchen to grab a bottle of water from the fridge I notice Trent’s coffee mug sitting on the counter. He accidentally leaves his coffee more than once a week. I pour it out and add it to my list of things to take him when I get done with my workout.

We aren’t rich by any means, but Trent’s house is paid for; it was left to him after his mother passed away ten years ago. The bar does very well and because of that we live extremely comfortable. I wouldn’t consider myself a kept woman, but the truth is, other than paying for groceries I have no other financial obligations; my cell phone is even covered on his account. The only reason I buy the groceries is because Trent is perfectly okay with eating out for every meal and I’d have to live at the gym if I ate like him.

He assures me this is the way it’s supposed to be. A man takes care of every one of his woman’s needs. So because of that, I just stick most of my money into savings. I did; however, recently use a chunk of it to buy my car.

My biggest pride and joy is my bright red Mini Cooper Countryman. We don’t have kids and have absolutely no time for an animal, so my car is my baby, and I treat it as such. It’s the first car that I’ve ever bought outright with my own money, and I take extreme pride in it.

I jump behind the wheel and wait for my phone to connect with the Bluetooth in the car. On my way to the gym, I call Keira to see if she wants to grab lunch before our shifts start later this afternoon. It’s Saturday which means all hands on deck since it’s our busiest night of the week. She doesn’t answer me, which is not surprising. More than likely she’s still passed out with whatever guy she deemed
Mr. Right Now
last night before leaving the bar. She’s always used her waitressing job at the bar as her personal dating service. She’s been lucky so far that it hasn’t caused problems, but she seems pretty up front about her intentions with the guys she hooks up with.

I tilt my head at the emptiness of the parking lot at the gym as I pull up. Saturday morning is usually pretty busy, but this place is deserted, eerie even. Walking up the steps, I see the bright green sign on the door informing me that the gym is closed due to a water pipe break inside. It goes on to say that they hope to be open by Monday at the latest.

I sigh and turn back around. It’s winter in Montana, so there’s no way I’m running outside. Frostbite and toe amputations are not on my list of things to do this week. I hate when my plans are derailed, and there’s nothing worse than not getting my workout in. More times than not it leads to poor eating decisions the rest of the day.

I get back in the car and head to the Starbuck’s drive thru to grab a coffee for Trent and myself, suddenly regretting not washing my hair this morning since I won’t be working out. I’ll wash it after having a cup of coffee with my love; I still have plenty of time before my shift starts.

The emptiness of the parking lot except for Trent’s truck is not surprising. The bar doesn’t open until two in the afternoon, so besides a delivery truck I wouldn’t expect any different.

I make my way to the front door of the bar, knowing it will be open for anyone who may be delivering. I also know chances are good Trent will be in the back office going over the week’s paperwork. He’s very organized, and I’m certain this quirk of his contributes to how well his business has been doing, aside from the staffing issues.

I’m amazed at how different the bar is during the daytime. It’s quiet and weird without music blaring and the sound of glasses clinking; the absence of customers talking and the sound of the balls hitting on the pool tables.

I left early last night with a horrendous headache, and I can tell from the not quite pristine condition of the tables and floors that I was missed. I feel mild satisfaction that things didn’t get done last night properly until I remember Trent telling me he had to stay even later last night to make sure everything was taken care of in my absence.

I know it wasn’t intentional, but he hurt my feelings when he came home and complained about having too much on his plate to have staff leaving early when he was already limited on employees. I let it roll off my back because I know he has so much going on, but it didn’t lessen the sting any. It’s not often that we fight or grow frustrated with each other, so it tends to hurt a little more when we do.

I roll my shoulders in an attempt to let the anger wash over me and disappear as I make my way to the back of the bar where the office is. Still holding both cups of coffee I use my hip to push open the door that separates the customer area from the back storage area where we keep all the supplies.

I stop in my tracks when I hear a slap and a giggle coming from the hallway where Trent’s office is. My blood runs cold. I take a single step and stop. I listen again, praying that I misheard, knowing the sound was unmistakable.

Crushed, I make my way down the back hallway and stand in the shadow as I see my boyfriend of six years pounding into my best friend. The same person who made friends with me on the playground when she first came to town in the second grade. The woman who has been, before Trent, the only constant in my life. She’s bent over the edge of his desk, and he has her hair tangled around his fist, arching her back so he can kiss her shoulder.

“Fuck, Kitten. This pussy gets tighter every time I fuck it,” Trent says to her on a moan.

Kitten? Every time?

A shiver races up my spine when he uses not only the same pet name I’d once loved but a phrase he’s praised me with for years. Nothing has been sacred. It also informs me that this is far from the first time they’ve done this.

I’m in utter shock. Later I’ll ask myself why I stood there as long as I did. More so I’ll wonder how I backed out of the hallway, calmly placed the still hot coffee on the bar, and walked out of there and never looked back.

They’ll find the coffee. They’ll know I was there because my name is written on both cups courtesy of the barista at Starbucks. Any other conclusions they draw is on them. As for me? I’m done. The only people I have in my life that I love have betrayed me. I have nothing left.

In a form less than myself I make my way home and pray I have enough time to pack and leave before they discover the coffee on the bar.

I sneer at the thought that since Trent already came with me in the shower this morning, he will last longer this time around. Another unwelcome thought comes to mind when I picture their morning betrayal on repeat in my head. I don’t think they were using a condom.

This pisses me off even through the haze of my devastation. Now I have to get myself checked for STDs. There’s no telling what Trent has been up to for the past six years of my life. He’s loving and attentive. He’s never pulled away from me. The only issue we’ve had lately is him working so much. Now I know he’s been leaving me in the morning to no doubt bang my best friend.

I may not be aware of all that Trent has been doing, but I’m well aware of the lifestyle my never satisfied best friend has. Knowing he’s not been using protection with her, means I’ll be at a clinic first thing Monday morning. I never had a problem with her love ‘em and leave ‘em lifestyle until just now, knowing Trent’s dick has been in her, bare.

I drag the rarely used suitcases from the spare bedroom and set them up on the bed. Six years of my life has been spent in this house. I came straight from a college dorm room to Trent’s house, so all I had were my clothes and a few other small personal effects. Everything I’ve obtained since has been with Trent. I need none of it. I want no reminder of the wasted years. I don’t want to be reminded that while I’ve been hoping he would ask me to marry him and start a family, he’s been sleeping with my best friend.

I grab my clothes, personal items from the bathroom, and the small photo album I have of my parents. My sad life fits in two suitcases with room to spare. Pitiful.

I tug the suitcases to the front door and take one last glance at the home I thought I’d eventually raise children in after Trent manned up and asked me to marry him.

Wasted time.

Wasted hope.

Wasted life.

I lift my hand to my neck as a single tear rolls down my cheek. The first tear, but I know it’s far from the last. My fingers brush across the gold and diamond infinity symbol hanging around my neck. I cherish this necklace. He gave it to me years ago, at the same time promising me he will love me and protect me always.

Lies.

Every word that he’s spewed from his beautiful mouth has been a lie. Every kiss, every
I love you
, and every unspoken ounce of satisfaction reflected in his glacial blue eyes has been a betrayal.

I tug the necklace until the chain breaks free and place it with a strangely calm hand on the table near the entryway. I turn and leave my entire life behind with no idea or plans for my future.

Living in the northwestern area of Great Falls, Montana has me on Interstate 15 heading north in a matter of minutes. An hour and a half later I’m pulling into a tiny gas station in Shelby. I take the time to fuel up and set my radio to the same playlist I used nine years ago when my parents died; the sad songs of loss and despair seem fitting.

I hit
Subway
for lunch and decide to go ahead and eat in the dining area. They have no drive-thru, so I had to get out of the car anyways. I pick a quiet corner and stick my headphones in, continuing to work through my grief while I eat.

It’s early afternoon and in a hasty decision I’ve decided I’ll head west toward Washington and possibly later will head to Alaska. Putting thousands of miles and a huge chunk of Canada between the people who’ve betrayed me seems like a good idea. If I continue on IH15 right now, I’ll hit Canada, and I don’t feel like digging for my passport. West it is.

While Rascal Flatts,
What Hurts the Most
, blares through the sound system I convince myself I’ll allow the duration of this trip for my grief and anger. Once I come to the place I want to settle, I tell myself I have to be over it; I’ll need to move on and begin again. I’m determined, but not hopeful, it will be that easy.

I begin my self-proclaimed pity party with memories of my parents, their car accident, and the future destroyed after their loss. Gut-wrenching grief washes over me when my mind takes me right back to Keira and how her family was there for me after their deaths. They gave me a place to live and helped me with all the paperwork to get into college.

Keira, my best friend. In less than a minute, well of what I saw, she managed to turn a lifetime friendship into seething treachery. Don’t get me wrong, I love Trent with each and every atom in my body, but she’s like a sister to me. I can’t decide which betrayal is worse at this point.

Was. Loved
. Past tense.

I want to cry and grieve for the loss of not only my lover and the man I was certain I’d spend the rest of my life with but also the woman who I was sure would be the godmother to the children Trent and I would have. Now I have no one.

Rather than giving into the heartache and misery that is trying to creep up I focus on the anger and the hatred at their deception. I try to work my head around the last few years in an attempt to pinpoint where things changed; doing my best not to turn it around on me and give into the self-doubt I’m known to have.

I have a history of internalizing others mistakes and accepting blame, and historically punishment, for wrongs that altogether were never mine to begin with. With everything that’s rushing and running through my head, I can’t even concentrate on driving.