Un-Tying the Knot {h.s.}

Chapter 66

I tap my fingers against the table nervously, waiting for my best friend Elise to show up for our lunch date.

And as the clock ticks another twenty minutes past our scheduled meeting time, I feel my patience wearing thin; although if I'm being honest, it's not because Elise is late, as this is nothing new.

No, it's because it feels like time has been simultaneously moving at a snails pace while also blowing by faster than ever, as it has for the past two months. Ever since Harry and I stopped seeing each other, really.

In fact, time seems to go slower by the day, my heart wrenching a little deeper with every painstaking minute that Harry hasn't honored his promise to me by "fixing" things, tacked on with every subsequent moment I've had to prepare for re-building my life brick by brick without him in it; but at the same time, it's like it was just yesterday I was tracing his tattoos and making love with him. Yet, today — it's only a week or so until his wedding.

To Eleanor.

When he will seal the fate of our could-have-been relationship for good.

I've been a wreck ever since that day, the day he had me wrapped up in his arms and whispered sweet promises against my hair as we cried together, both knowing deep down that once he walked out my bedroom door, he would probably never walk in it again.

Neither of us would admit it, of course. And I certainly haven't let my sadness show to anyone in my work circle, not even Hannah.

"Hola! Chicana! Que pasa!?" Elise snaps at me obnoxiously, trying to weave my mind back to reality.

I blush profusely as I come to, smiling weakly at my closest friend in the city I'm quickly coming to hate. "Hey, sorry..."

"You know, I hate it when you make me speak Spanish to your white ass. No mames," she playfully threatens, wagging her finger at me warningly. "Where the hell is my margarita?"

I smile, letting a long overdue laugh escape my lips. God...thank the Lord for Elise Martinez.

"It hasn't come yet..." I smile knowingly. "But if you actually showed up on time, you wouldn't have to worry about missing happy hour."

"Oh no, you did not just try to time manage me!" She snaps again. "But seriously, who do I need to cut here for not having my margarita ready and waiting for these perfect ass lips, ay? Our waiter better be fucking cute..."

I smirk again, playing with the corner of my menu. "It's a she..."

"So? Maybe I like girls this week," she huffs.

I laugh again, nearly losing it at her ridiculousness. She always knows how to make me laugh, and I couldn't be happier to be in her presence.

"Well, then — I hope she's your type."

I smile again, watching her look over the menu, even though we both know she's going to get the same thing she always does. We've been coming to Salsa & Beer for almost five years — every other Saturday. They even honored us with our own booth as far away from the mariachi band as possible.

"Speaking of conquests, did Matt figure out his girlfriend problems? If he needs a break, I'll take care of him," she wiggles her eyebrows.

"God! You might be the horniest woman I've ever met. And no, you're not sleeping with Matt. Ever."

She rolls her eyes. "Don't get your panties in a bunch just because you're not getting laid by your boss anymore...Matt's hot. I'd fuck him."

I narrow my eyes at her, and she holds her hands up, noticing that I'm a little on edge.