Pretty Ever After (Chicago Nights Book 3)

by Tabatha Kiss

  “No...” I say, staring at the back of his shaggy head. “No, no, no…”

  A sleeve of black tattoos crawls up his right arm and disappears beneath a tight, white t-shirt. A leather jacket hangs over the back of a chair at the table for two in the corner.

  “No...” is all I can say.

  Robbie turns around and grins at me. “Good morning, sweetie!” he says.

  I cringe as my head screams. “What the fuck are you doing here?” I ask, massaging my temples.

  “Making breakfast,” he says, turning back to the skillet. “Honestly, it’s the least I can do for you after what you did for me last night.”

  I lower my hands. “What I did?”

  “Oh, yeah...” He grunts with sinister pleasure as he glances back at me. “I didn’t think you had it in you.”

  I hesitate to ask. “What did I do?”

  The toaster pops and I flinch.

  Robbie reaches for the toast. “It was amazing,” he says as he grabs a butter knife from the drawer. “You were like a cat in heat.”

  “I was?”

  “Usually when a woman tells me to put it anywhere I assume she’s kidding, but you...”

  I deflate, holding my stomach. “Oh, god...”

  Robbie laughs. “Mel, relax. I’m kidding. Joel called me last night and told me you were too drunk to get home. I came out, we got a cab, I put you to bed, and I crashed on the couch.”

  I snort. “Yeah, right.”

  He points across the room. I look to see the blanket draped along the couch, obviously recently used.

  “Oh,” I say. “Story checks out, I guess.”

  Robbie lays a plate down on the counter in front of me, filled to the edges with scrambled eggs, shredded cheddar, and buttered toast. “Eat up,” he says.

  I shake my head. “There’s no way I can keep that down right now...”

  “Yeah, that’s the point. You shove it down in less than three minutes and run to the bathroom. By minute five, you’re spewing, but by minute ten, you feel like a million bucks.”

  “That’s disgusting.”

  “Hey...” He raises his hands. “Who else would you trust for a quickie hangover cure?”

  “You make a decent point.” I reach for the toast, braving one perfectly buttered corner. “So, nothing happened?” I ask.

  “Nada.”

  “I wasn’t wearing pants.”

  “Yeah, you did that,” he says with a grin. “Guess you felt a bit too warm.”

  “That’s it?” I ask, hopeful. “That’s all that happened?”

  “That’s it,” he answers.

  I nod, believing him. If something happened, Robbie would shout it from the rooftops. “Good.”

  “Anyway...” He clears his throat, amused. “I’ll get out your hair. Let you spew in peace.”

  I eye the plate in front of me as he walks around the counter. “All right...”

  “I’ll see you around, Mel.”

  “Bye, Rob...” I watch him go, feeling a soft tug in my chest. “Hey, Rob.”

  He pauses by the door. “Yeah?”

  “Thank you,” I say slowly.

  He chuckles. “That looked painful for you.”

  “It was a little.” I shrug. “But really, I appreciate you getting me home last night. Not sure what I was thinking. You didn’t have to do this...”

  “Yeah, I did,” he says.

  I feel like I should argue. By now, that’s usually what me and Robbie would do, but... I don’t want to.

  “Thank you,” I say again.

  “Anytime,” he says, turning to the door again.

  I look away, feeling my cheeks burn, and I notice his leather jacket still resting on the back of the chair.

  “Wait, Rob.” I pick it up. “Your jacket.”

  Something rolls out of the pocket, making a loud, metallic noise as it hits the floor by my feet.

  Robbie starts toward it. “I’ll get that, just—”

  I bend over, slowly picking it up off the floor. It’s a flat, copper colored coin. Shiny and engraved with...

  Seven months?

  I pause and look up at him standing beside me. “Robbie, what is...”

  He snatches the coin from my hand. “I’ll take that...” he says, his face pointing down at the floor.

  “Robbie.”

  I take a closer look at him. He’s lucid. Not a shade of red anywhere in his eyes. Clean hair with only a light stubble on his face, meaning he’s shaving. Frequently. And he smells… nice?

  “Are you sober?” I ask.

  He hesitates before raising his head and nodding. “Yeah, I am,” he answers.

  My jaw drops. “For how long — well...” I gesture at the coin. “Seven months, I guess?”

  “Yeah, seven months this weekend, actually.”

  “Holy shit.”

  He flexes his right hand twice. “It’s not a big deal.”

  “No, Rob, that’s... that’s huge. Congratulations. Or...” I wince. “Is this a congratulatory thing or does that sound as stupid as it does to me?”

  “No, congratulations are fine,” he says. “Thank you.”

  I stare at him as my heart pounds even harder. “Wow,” I say.

  “Really, Mel,” he says, “I’d prefer it if you didn’t make a thing out of it.”

  “Right.” I step back. “Of course.”

  “I’m not…” He pauses. “I’m not ready to talk to you about it yet.”

  I raise my hands, realizing that I’m still holding his jacket. “Consider it dropped.” I extend my arms, handing it to him.

  He takes the jacket and slowly folds it over his arm. “Anyway, I need to get going. I have a meeting.”

  “A meeting meeting? Like a—”

  Robbie exhales a laugh.

  I mime a key to my mouth. “Dropped.”

  “Thanks,” he says.

  I keep my mouth shut as he crosses toward the door again.

  “Bye, Mel,” he says, giving me a casual wave before he walks out.

  “Bye, Rob,” I say back.

  The door closes behind him and I let my mouth sag wide open.

  “Holy shit,” I whisper to no one.

  Four

  Melanie

  After a very, very long shower, I get cleaned up and make my way to Moira’s Cafe for brunch. Traffic is… well, about what you’d expect for a Chicago Sunday morning, but it barely even blips my radar. I’m way too focused on the thoughts in my head to care about the annoying crowds.

  Robbie hasn’t had a drink in seven months. There’s no way that’s possible, right? Robbie and alcohol go together like peanut butter and jelly. Or mac and cheese. Or…

  Okay, I should really stop thinking about food or else I’m going to hurl.

  But seriously, though. How did I miss this?

  The last few times I saw Robbie, he was… Robbie. Same old Robbie with the red eyes and the faint odor. But am I remembering it wrong? Has he had his shit together this entire time right under my nose?

  And if so…

  Why didn’t he tell me?

  I pull up to the cafe and hand my keys off to the valet out front as I quickly head inside to escape the cold. Moira’s Cafe hums with its usual buzzing atmosphere as I walk past the nodding girls at the hostess station. My instincts guide me toward our usual table, followed quickly by the sudden re-route as I realize that our usual table has been invaded yet again by another group of older ladies.

  I twist mid-stride and head toward the other corner where Nora, Trix, and Haley, our newest recruit, are already chirping back and forth in conversation.

  I round the table, quickly taking my spot in the empty fourth chair. “You guys will never believe this,” I say, their chirps grinding to a halt.

  I set my purse on the table and take a deep breath as they stare at me.

  “Robbie Wheeler…” I pause, not ready to say it out loud, “is sober.”

  Nora’s little eyes squint in thought. “
Like right this second?”

  “Like, for months,” I say. “I saw his sobriety coin this morning.”

  Trix’s jaw drops. “Wait, what? Really?”

  “Yes. It was shiny and brown and he confirmed it himself. Seven months sober.”

  “Wow, that’s… huge.”

  “That’s what I said!”

  Haley leans in closer to Trix. “Robbie?” she whispers.

  “Her ex-husband,” Trix answers.

  “Oh, right,” she says, recalling.

  Trix gives her a thumbs up. “Yeah, he’s a good guy.”

  I scoff out of habit. “Let’s not get carried away or anything.”

  Nora’s head tilts. “Why did you see Robbie this morning?”

  Trix jolts in her seat, nearly knocking over her glass of ice water. “Is Robbie the guy you took home with you last night?! Did you hook up with Robbie again?”

  Nora gasps. “What?”

  I sigh. “No, he—”

  “She called me this morning,” Trix says over me. “Said there was someone in her apartment and she couldn’t remember what happened last night. Oh, my gerd! This is it!”

  Nora grabs Trix’s hand across the table. “It’s happening!”

  “Don’t force it! Just let it happen.”

  Nora squeals quietly, unable to contain her excitement.

  I glare at them. “No,” I say. “And if you’ll let me speak, I’ll explain.”

  They go quiet, sulking in disappointment.

  “Now...” I take a breath. “Yes, Robbie took me home from the bar last night. No—” I say it hard as they perk up again, “we didn’t have sex or fool around or anything like that. And even if we did, there is a child present.”

  I gesture at Haley.

  Trix waves a hand. “Nah, she’s cool. Go ahead. Just don’t tell your dad,” she adds, poking Haley’s arm. “Besides, she’s legal and should learn from the professionals.”

  “Fair enough.” I nod. “Anyway, Robbie brought me home safely from the bar, he put me to bed, and he slept on my couch. The end.”

  Nora nods. “Massive respect points for him.”

  Trix nudges Haley again. “See? Good guy.”

  “I’d be rolling my eyes again, but I’m still hungover and my head hurts too much,” I say, annoyed.

  “Please proceed, counsel,” she says, sitting back.

  “Thank you. Then, this morning, as he was leaving, I grabbed his jacket to give it to him and that’s when the coin rolled out.”

  “Hmm,” Nora hums softly. “You know, I’m not that shocked. I stopped by his place a few days ago and he really seems to have it together.”

  “Right?” Trix nods. “You noticed, too?”

  “Why were you at his place?” I ask.

  “Um…” Nora pauses, her cheeks turning pinker than usual. “I just needed a man’s opinion for… something.”

  Trix raises a silent, curious brow.

  “Something like…?” I ask.

  “A Christmas gift,” she blurts. “For Clive. I needed Robbie’s opinion on… Clive’s Christmas gift.”

  I stare at her for several more seconds, wondering how red her cheeks will get.

  Obviously, Clive’s Christmas gift isn’t a fancy pocket watch.

  “Anyway…” I clear my throat and she exhales with relief. “How sure are we of his togetherness? I mean, have you guys forgotten about the nail he put through his hand two months ago? Which, knowing what we know now, occurred whilst he was completely sober?”

  “He said that happened at work,” Nora says, happily jumping on the subject. “Where does he work again?”

  “I have no idea. I thought that was bullshit.”

  “He’s a builder,” Trix says.

  We stop and stare at her.

  “He’s a what?” I ask.

  “A bu-il-der.”

  “Robbie builds things?”

  “That’s what he told me last month when he installed my new locks,” she says with a shrug. “Did I not mention this?”

  Nora shakes her head. “No, you did not.”

  “Oh. Sorry. Yeah, he’s a builder for some local construction company. Been there for a while now, I think.”

  I let it sink in, my interest piquing. “That’s a good job,” I say. “That’s a real job.”

  “A sexy job,” Nora says.

  Trix points at her in agreement.

  “What did he say about it?” Nora asks me. “The coin, I mean.”

  I pause, picturing that pained look on his face again. “He said he wasn’t ready to talk to me about it yet... and then he went to a meeting.”

  Nora nods. “Now, that is a man who has his shit together.”

  I stare at the clean, white tablecloth in front of me. Maybe Robbie really does have his shit together.

  For once.

  “Sorry for the delay, ladies. Are you ready to order?”

  We all turn in our seats toward the new, female voice over our heads. A young woman stands by our table with an order pad and pencil in her hands. Short, red hair, and petite.

  Not our usual guy.

  “Where’s Roger?” Nora asks her.

  “Oh, he changed his schedule,” she says. “He’s not on Sundays anymore.”

  “He’s not?”

  “What can I get you?” she asks, feigning a pleasant smile.

  Nora looks around. “Our usual bottomless mimosas, I guess.”

  “No,” I say as my stomach flinches. “I can’t even smell alcohol right now. Just water for me, please.”

  Trix raises a hand. “And I’m with child, so... I’ll just have normal orange juice...” she says, not looking too happy about it. “No pulp, please.”

  “Me, too,” Haley says. “Not the pregnant part. I’m just eighteen.”

  Nora exhales. “Well, I don’t want to be the only one drinking.” She looks at the server. “Iced caramel latte, please.”

  The server nods. “Coming right out.”

  “Thank you,” I mutter.

  We sit in a brief silence as she walks off toward the kitchen.

  “Is this growth?” Nora asks. “Are we growing?”

  “I don’t like it,” I say, shaking my head. “New table. New server. Too much change.” I point among them. “Too much new. No more change.”

  Trix blocks Haley’s face from my pointer. “She doesn’t mean you, Hal,” she says.

  I nod quickly. “Right. Haley, you’re welcome here anytime. Of course. That goes without saying.”

  “She’s just projecting the very obvious freak-out she’s having about her ex onto the rest of us,” Trix says, smiling at me.

  “No, I’m not.”

  “New job,” she says. “New sobriety. Too much new.”

  “Oh, that’s not what—”

  “Melanie, do you remember what you told us to do if you ever started showing interest in Robbie again?”

  I exhale hard. “I’m not showing interest. He is interesting at the moment, but I’m not showing interest.”

  “You told us we were to physically restrain you to keep that from happening again.”

  Nora nods. “That’s right. You said that.” She smiles. “And I have great handcuffs now, so you better watch it.”

  Haley raises an innocent brow.

  Trix leans over. “And what do you say when your dad asks what we talked about at brunch?” she asks her.

  “Politics and religion,” Haley answers, a well-rehearsed line.

  “Good girl.”

  “I’m not showing interest in Robbie again,” I say, hitting every word. “This isn’t interest. It’s fascination and… I don’t know, a little self-pity, I guess.”

  “What do you mean?” Nora asks.

  I sigh. “If Robbie really has been sober for seven months, then that means he immediately got better the day I left him,” I say. “He got better because I wasn’t in his life anymore.”

  “Oh, no, honey.” She leans forward, reaching for my hand
on the table. “That’s not right. How do you know that you leaving wasn’t the kick in the balls he needed?”

  “Yeah,” Trix says. “I’m with Nora here, Mel. You can’t take it like that. Robbie still worships the air you breathe. Trust me on that.”

  “I always thought Robbie was bad for me,” I say. “But maybe it was the other way around. Maybe I was bad for him.”

  Nora and Trix look at each other, both of them softly shaking their heads. The hesitation on their faces tells me they think I might have a point. Robbie was always a mess — of the irresistible variety, on my part. For him to suddenly be more than that... how can I not find the timeline painfully suspicious?

  The server returns with a tray of our drinks. As she passes them out, I stare at the condensation on my water glass and drift even deeper into my Robbie-based madness.

  What did he even mean when he said he wasn’t ready to talk to me about it yet?

  Does he not want my opinion?

  Do I even get to have one?

  “Let me know if you need anything else,” she says, smiling.

  “Thank you!” Nora says.

  What is this feeling I’m having?

  Am I angry that he didn’t tell me?

  Or guilty because I didn’t notice?

  Water droplets run down my glass, staining the white tablecloth beneath it. I look up, realizing the table has been awfully quiet for who knows how long, to find the other girls staring at me with those big sympathetic eyes.

  I sit up straight. “Let’s change the subject,” I say. “Please continue talking about what you were talking about before.”

  Nora sighs. “Do we have to? I was kind of enjoying that break.”

  “Break from what?”

  “Do you remember Alex? The guy who broke into my condo?”

  I nod. “Clive’s partner-in-crime?”

  She winces. “Yeah, that guy. Apparently, his lawyers are close to securing a plea deal.”

  “Seriously?” I ask. “Can’t your lawyers stop that?”

  “They’re trying, but I guess the ADA has been after his mystery employer, the one who wanted my client list in the first place, so they’re willing to let Alex walk if he offers enough information. Makes me sick thinking about it.”

  I look at Trix. “Can Lance do anything?”

  Trix nods. “I already texted him. He will look into it first thing tomorrow.”