Chapter Twenty Eight: Ezra

Nothing between Lacey and me felt the same since returning home, and three days passed with almost no conversation between us. The club stayed the same, as did the patrons, my staff, the schedule, and everything else in our little world … except for our friendship. It was awkward now, tense, and every time I thought that we might be making progress in our relationship, another weird moment would cross between us, and things were difficult again.

The women didn’t help. Since we’d been home, the club was full of ladies who wanted to get with me, but even when I finally succumbed—mostly in hopes of forgetting about Lacey—it did nothing for me and, if anything, just made me feel that much worse.

“You look like shit, boss,” Tilly said one Saturday night, her eyes filled with concern as I sipped at my third rum and coke.

“You tell me that at least once a day,” I reminded her, and Tilly nodded.

“Only because it’s true. You doing okay?”

“Doing great.”

“Wanna talk about it?”

“Not even a little.”

She nodded, understanding, but it didn’t make much of a difference because I knew she already knew everything there was to know about what happened between Lacey and me in Hawaii. Tilly knew everything, and she was one of Lacey’s best friends.

“You know,” she said, leaning over the bar counter to get closer to me. The way her tone dropped, and her eyebrows shot up at once put me on guard. Maybe I wouldn’t be so lucky as to dodge the conversation. “Lacey isn’t doing well either,” she said. “Have you two talked? Seriously?”

“No.” I finished off my rum and coke, sliding the glass in her direction for a refill. “There are some things that are past talking about, Tilly.”

“Do you really believe that?” she asked, and I had to look away from her because she was right. I didn’t believe that. Not even a little. I wanted to talk to Lacey. And more than talking to her, I wanted to touch her. Hold her. Be with her just as we’d been together not long ago. But that wasn’t going to happen, and we all had to accept that.

“Get back to work, Tilly,” I said as a busty young woman with blonde extensions and a fake smile sidled her way up to me.

“Sure thing, boss,” said Tilly with a roll of her eyes, but I already had my attention focused on the woman in front of me.

“Ezra, right?” she said, holding out her hand for me to take. “I’m Melissa. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Is that so? All good things, I hope.”

“Excellent things,” she purred, batting her eyelashes at me. I could tell at once where she wanted this to go, and I was too drunk to turn her down. I didn’t want to. I had to get my mind off Lacey somehow.

“Would you like to see my apartment?” I asked. “It’s pretty near here.”

Marissa’s eyes flickered over my shoulder and towards the steps leading up to my flat, and she grinned. “I’d be honored.”

“Great,” I said, ignoring Tilly’s dangerously angry look radiating from the other side of the bar. I offered my arm to Marissa, tossed back the remainder of my drink, and led her to the staircase, making a path through the crowd of clubgoers and dancers. As we reached the top of the step, my eyes wandered at once towards Lacey’s office door. It was closed, just like usual, but recently the closed door had felt more like a rejection. She avoided me, Lacey did, and I couldn’t blame her because I was keen to do the same thing.

I wasn’t sure how much longer we could keep this up.

The next few hours with Melissa felt oddly forced, as though I was merely moving through the movements and not really living them. The sex felt mediocre after being with Lacey, and there was no passion, drive, or lust for one another. It was around Midnight, and Melissa was asleep in my bed when there was a soft knock on my door. I was already awake, sipping at a glass of whiskey in the living room when the knock came. I got up to answer it, expecting Tilly, or maybe even some strange new woman, but it was neither of them. It was Lacey.

“I just wanted to let you know that I’m heading home,” she said as I opened the door. “I got caught up on payroll, but—” her words trailed off suddenly as her eyes caught sight of something over my shoulder. “I’m sorry,” she said quickly, brows furrowing at the sight of Marissa’s panties in the middle of the floor. “I didn’t realize you had company.”

“Lacey,” I said. “No, it’s—” But what was it? There was no denying it. There was no reason to deny it, so I didn’t. I shut my mouth instead.

“I’m sorry, Ezra,” she said, backing away. Something in her expression had changed suddenly, something I couldn’t pinpoint. I didn’t like it.

“Lacey, wait.” I followed her out the door, closing it behind me, trailing after Lacey as she rushed back to her office, back to me, shaking her head. “Let’s talk about this, yeah? Can we just talk?”

“I think it’s too late for that. Far, far too late, Ezra.” Lacey swung open the door to her office and went in, ignoring that I was hot on her heels.

“What do you mean?” I asked. “Maybe we should try to talk like we used to. You’re my best friend, Lacey. What are you feeling?”

She didn’t say anything at first, which was worse than just hearing her shout. She wouldn’t look at me as she gathered things from around the office, and it took me a moment to realize what she was doing.

Packing.

“Lacey,” I said steadily. “What are you doing?”

“I—I can’t be here anymore, Ezra,” she said, shrugging on her jacket. “I’m sorry. I just … I can’t do this with you anymore.”

“Do what?” I asked, feeling the nausea roll in the pit of my stomach. “You can’t leave. I need you here. I—I need you.”

“I can help you find another bookkeeper,” she said, reaching over to shut her laptop. She slipped it into her bag and straightened up, catching my gaze. “I’m sorry, Ezra. I really am. I just need some time to think, okay? I need some time by myself.”

“Why?”

“I need to sort through my emotions. I need to just—figure things out, okay?” As she started to sidestep me, I reached out to stop her, grabbing her wrist, silently pleading with her.

“Don’t leave,” I begged. “Talk to me. Don’t just walk away.”

She paused, just briefly, and I thought she might just reconsider for a moment. But as her eyes fell on my hand gripped around her wrist, she shook her head again and pulled herself free.

“I can’t do this,” she said softly. “Not with you.”

“But, Lacey, I lov—” I stopped speaking before the words could trickle from between my lips because she was already gone, back to me, out the door and down the stairs before I could even consider chasing her.

She was gone. My best friend was gone.