He Loved Me—For Someone Else
Chapter 4: Broken Bonds and Bitter Goodbyes
“Chris, how old are you? Still playing hide-and-seek like a kid?”
I was silent, then held the phone away. “I’m at a bar. If that’s all, I’m hanging up.”
“What are you talking about? You hate those places.” Ethan’s voice dropped. “Tell me where you are, I’ll come pick—”
He didn’t finish. Someone else spoke up.
A beautiful voice, like a cello string—cool, metallic. The pianist rolled over to me and asked, “Are you here alone?”
Ethan fell silent. Before he could say anything else, I hung up. The finality was satisfying—a door slamming shut.
It hit me—usually, when someone spends big on flowers in a bar, it means they’re interested in the performer. I felt my cheeks heat up, embarrassment prickling under my skin.
But I hadn’t meant it that way. My intentions were pure, but I could see how it looked.
“No, no, no…” My face burned. I waved my hands, backing away. “I don’t need any special service…”
But I moved too fast and almost fell out of the booth. The man caught me by the waist, steady and strong. I found myself looking up into his eyes.
His breath brushed my ear, his arm tense, muscles showing under his shirt. The moment stretched—electric, uncertain.
“Am I ugly?”
I looked at him. His eyes were like scratched glass—fragile, pitiful. Something inside me tightened.
I shook my head quickly. “You’re very handsome.”
“Really?” He dropped his gaze, bangs falling over his face, making him look lost. “But with my legs like this, I didn’t get any tips today.”
“Soon I’ll be kicked out of the bar and back on the street.”
He looked at me like a stray left out in the rain. My heart skipped. I clenched my fingers, feeling the weight of his gaze. For the first time in a long while, something stirred inside me—maybe hope, or just the memory of it.
