29. From Best To Worst

TWENTY-NINE

FROM BEST TO WORST

Dessa

It's been over a week since I talked to either Tony or Garrett. Tony's been on his honeymoon, and Garrett's been MIA. On New Year's Eve, loneliness sucker punched me in the gut as I watched all the happy couples in the bar lock lips at midnight. All I could do was sip my glass of water—I couldn't even drown my misery in alcohol because I was working. To be fair, he sent me a text at midnight, ten o'clock his time, wishing me a Happy New Year. I didn't respond, mostly because I didn't know what to say.

I'm still conflicted about their fight. Rylee and Nora both agreed Tony deserved the punch to his face, and it was sweet for Garrett to defend my honor. But Lach thought it was dumb since Tony cheating happened years ago, and it's not worth the fight. Plus, there's the whole Tony-dated-me-so-Garrett-couldn't situation that seems too far-fetched to believe. Who would spend four years with someone they didn't like? Either way, I don't know who's actually telling the truth yet. This would be better if we didn't have such a complicated history.

I'm stocking the beer cooler when the front door opens, the sliver of light catching my attention. Tony strolls in wearing a dark gray wool pea coat. He runs his hand through his chestnut-colored hair, brushing the snowflakes away while the ones that linger melt from the warm temperature.

"Hey, Tony. I wasn't expecting to see you." I throw the empty box onto the floor as he takes a seat on a stool in front of me. "Looks like the shiner is finally starting to go away."

"Yeah and just in time."

I point to the beer taps with a raised brow, silently asking if he wants a beer. He shakes his head. "Just in time for what?" I ask while reaching inside the cooler for a bottle of beer for another customer.

"I'm heading to Chicago for work next week. I have a couple of recruiting meetings and meetings with coaches. You should come with me."

My head snaps back. "Go with you to Chicago? Shouldn't that be something you ask your wife to do?"

He chuckles softly. "That sounds bad, doesn't it? Let me start over. Over Christmas, Georgia and I ate at Poco Grande. Georgia thought it would be a fun surprise to arrange a meet and greet between you and Isabella. I made a phone call and she was thrilled with the idea."

The bottle of beer slips from my hand and hits the bar with a heavy thud. Luckily, it didn't break, but I set it to the side and grab another one. "That would be a dream!" I fight hard to not climb on the bar and dance and scream right now. It might frighten the customers, otherwise there's a good chance that would be happening. With a firm grasp on the second bottle, I pass it to the customer.

"Let me talk to Jake and see if I need to change anything with my schedule. What days?"

A wide smile splits Tony's face. "Thursday through Saturday."

"And what about Georgia? Will she also be going?"

He frowns. "No. She's busy with the interior designer for her new shop."

A part of me would be more comfortable if Georgia was going. "Are you sure Georgia is okay with this? The last thing I want to do is step on anyone's toes."

"Of course. It was her idea." He waves me off.

His words are reassuring, but I'm still asking her myself. "I'm meeting Isabella Rossi!" I can no longer contain my squeal. My hands shoot up in the air, and I twirl in a happy dance. "What am I going to wear? I need to compile a list of questions because I'm going to forget everything once I meet her. Should I bring a gift? What if she asks me questions? I don't think I'll be prepared for that."

"Dessa, calm down. She's a really chill person. You'll get along great with her."

I nod in an attempt to simmer my excitement. I round the end of the bar and wrap my arms around Tony. "Seriously, this is amazing. The best thing that's ever happened to me."

"Well, I'm happy it could be me who can make this happen for you."

Once Tony leaves, I text Georgia to confirm the trip. She said this is an amazing opportunity for me and she wishes she could join us. Now that I have her blessing, I feel so much better about going and meeting Isabella Rossi!

After clearing my vacation with Jake and only needing to switch one shift with Rylee, I secured three days off. He booked all our travel, including the plane tickets and hotel rooms. I made it clear to get separate rooms and that I would pay for mine, but he said the rooms would be comped since Georgia's family owns the hotel chain. When I looked up the price, I nearly fell on the floor. Six hundred dollars a night for two nights was a little out of my price range. I'd be living off ramen noodles for the foreseeable future to afford that bill.

From my closet, I stare at my empty suitcase lying open on my bed. Unable to decide what to wear, I throw ten different outfits, along with five different pairs of shoes, into my suitcase. I sit on top, bouncing up and down, willing it to close. Once the zipper's in place, my phone chimes with a message that Tony's in my driveway.

I drag my suitcase down the stairs, huffing and puffing with each step. Once I'm out the front door, Tony's waiting inside his truck.

When he sees me, he steps out. "We're only going to be gone for three days. Did you need to bring your entire closet?" He stalks toward me and grabs my suitcase.

"I also have a carry-on. I was undecided on which outfits I want to wear. If I want to go comfy and casual or sleek and stylish. This gives me options." A gust of wind blows the loose snow through the air, icing my warm cheeks.

"You were always so indecisive." When we reach the side of his truck, he hoists my suitcase into the bed along with my carry-on bag.

I pat my jean pockets, coat pockets, then check inside my purse for my phone. "Shit, I forgot my phone. I'll be right back." After I find my phone on the kitchen counter, I race outside, hop into the passenger seat, and we take off to the airport.

When the car stops in front of the hotel, I peer out the window and look up and up and up. "I'll be honest, I've never stayed at a hotel with so many floors." I tear my gaze from the window to turn toward Tony, who's watching me.

"I'm just taking all your firsts."

A ghost of a smile tips the corner of my lips. Years ago, Tony was the first guy I slept with, but for him to make a comment now creates an unease in the pit of my stomach. I brush it off because I'm in Chicago to meet Isabella Rossi.

When we step out of the car, a bellhop immediately greets us to collect our luggage. A gust of wind blows through, and I tighten my coat around myself. With a hand on my lower back, Tony escorts me inside.

A dark, rich mahogany wood reception desk is a focal point against the light tile floor. At the counter, the front desk receptionist greets us with a warm smile. Her name tag reads Kelly .

The clacking of the keyboard echoes through the lobby as Kelly types Tony's name into the computer. "I have you in a king suite for three days and two nights." Her voice is polite and professional .

I lean in. "Excuse me? One room? There should be two."

She glances at the screen again to confirm the details. "I only have a reservation for one room."

Tony interjects. "That can't be right. I booked two."

"I'm sorry sir, it's just the one room."

"Can you add another room?" I ask, crossing my fingers.

"I'm sorry ma'am, we're fully booked." She gives me a pitying glance.

I blow out a deep breath, trying to keep my irritation at bay.

Tony looks from me to the receptionist. "This is unacceptable." His tone is sharp. "Do you know who my wife is?"

Her wide-eyed gaze drifts to me and then to Tony. "I'm sorry. No, I don't."

"Oh. It's not me. I'm not his wife," I quickly interject, waving my hands. Shit. That sounds bad. She probably thinks I'm the mistress. "We're friends." I blurt out. "We've known each other since we were kids. I'm just on the trip to meet my girl crush. Isabella Rossi. Do you know her?"

Kelly nods.

I pinch my lips shut and drop a step back. She doesn't need my life story.

Tony rests his hands on the counter and states very matter-of-factly, "My wife's father own's this hotel, and I'm going to make sure he hears about this." He narrows his eyes at her.

Tears well up in her eyes as her chin wobbles.

"Tony," I whisper. "That's not necessary."

"Yes. It is," he snaps. "The service should be better than this."

"Tony," I grit through my teeth. "Really. It's fine." I turn to Kelly. "It's fine. Whatever room you have will work." Today is supposed to be a good day. I don't want the bad karma of getting someone fired hanging over my head. Plus, this isn't her fault. She's only doing her job.

"I'm sorry. I swear I booked two rooms," Tony says to me.

"Being a suite, the room does offer a pullout couch outside the bedroom," Kelly offers.

"Great! Sounds perfect." I'm trying to stay optimistic in this entire situation, but sharing a hotel room with Tony was not on my to-do list for the day.

"You take the bed, and I'll take the couch," Tony says.

"You don't have to do that."

"No, I insist. This is my fault. I'll take the couch." He flashes me a sympathetic smile.

After checking in, we head to the twenty-fifth floor. When we enter our suite at the end of the hallway, the bright, natural sunlight shines in through the enormous wall of windows facing Lake Michigan. The view is absolutely breathtaking. The bellhop follows us inside and deposits our luggage in the bedroom. I almost correct him, but it's not worth the hassle. We can move our suitcases later.

Tony plops down on the couch and throws his arms over the back. "We have a couple of hours until we need to meet Isabella?—"

"I have to get ready!"

"For the next hour and a half?"

"Yes! I need to freshen up, pick out my outfit, and make sure I have all my questions." I spin around and dash into the bedroom. I move Tony's suitcase to the other side of the door, then close it behind me.

I rummage through my entire suitcase and try on every different outfit combination imaginable. Once that's done, I do the same with the shoes. I finally settle on black skinny jeans with gray wedge booties and a cream blouse. I style my hair in a half updo with loose curls. An hour later, I emerge from the bedroom, and Tony's still sitting on the couch. His suitcase is sitting next to the armrest, and he's looking at his phone. He's changed into a fresh, black button-down shirt, but kept the same jeans.

The clacking of my boots on the tile floor draws his attention. He glances up, dropping his phone to his lap. "Wow. You look stunning."

"Thank you. I need to make a good impression for Isabella."

"Well, she won't be the only one left speechless." His gaze wanders down the length of my body and lands at my feet. "Shall we?"

Even though the restaurant is only two blocks away, we opt to request an Uber since it's windy and twenty degrees outside. The car stops at the curb in front of a large, dark brown building with floor-to-ceiling windows. Back lit letters stick out from the side of the building spelling out Poco Grande. Tony holds the front door open for me, and we walk inside. The dark brown flooring matches elegantly with the cream drapes. The ma?tre d' greets us and checks our coats before showing us to the private bar section where Isabella is waiting.

My heart pounds in my chest as my palms grow clammy. No matter how many times I wipe them on my jeans, it's futile. I'm a giant ball of anxiety, nervousness, and excitement all rolled into one. I pray I don't make a giant ass out of myself.

When we reach the bar, Isabella is standing on the other side pouring a drink into two glasses. My hands shake as spots dot my vision. I inhale a deep breath, willing myself not to pass out. When she notices us, she looks up and smiles. Oh god, she smiled at me. I give her what I think is a bright, beautiful smile, but if I had to guess, it resembles a Chandler Bing smile.

"Hi. Welcome to Poco Grande." She slides the two glasses in front of us. "Tony. Always a pleasure to see you."

Tony nods. "Likewise."

Isabella turns to me. "You must be Dessa?" She holds out her hand.

My cheeks grow warm. She knows my name! "Hi! Yes!" I say entirely too cheerfully. Tone it down, Dessa. Discreetly, I wipe my palm on my jeans before reaching up to shake her hand.

"Please take a seat. I'm so happy you two could come." She gestures to the two stools in front of her.

Tony pulls out my stool, and I take a seat. "I am a huge fan." Let the fangirling commence. "I have all your books. Your show is always on my TV. I even have your mixology set."

She rests a hand on her chest as pink tints her cheeks. "Thank you so much. I'm so honored."

I made Isabella Rossi blush. "No. Thank you. Would it be weird if I asked you to sign my arm so I can get it tattooed later?"

She laughs as if I'm joking. I'm not, but I play along and laugh as well so she doesn't think I'm a stalker on the brink of tracking down her phone number and home address.

"I do have a brand-new book that comes out next week, and I'd be happy to give you a signed copy."

I've died and gone to cocktail heaven. Best. Day. Ever. "That would be amazing! Thank you!" I glance at Tony with the widest smile on my face. He's watching me intently with a half smile of his own. I turn my attention back to Isabella. "What is this drink?" I point at the glass in front of us.

"This is a palate cleanser drink to open your tastebuds to all the flavors you'll experience tonight. It's called a Negroni. It's made of an Italian bitter, sweet vermouth, and gin. Then garnished with an orange peel."

I raise my glass, and Tony does the same. We clink our glasses before swallowing our cocktails. Hints of both bitter and sweet dance over my tastebuds.

Isabella claps her hands together. "Now to the fun stuff. This is something new I've been trying. It's a smoky whiskey." She gives us a play-by-play demonstration of how she makes the drink. "First, I insert a tube into the shaker and cover the top the best I can and turn on the smoke gun. I'll let this sit for about two minutes. You can adjust it for shorter or longer depending on how strong you want the smoke flavor." She turns on the smoke gun, and a cloud of smoke rolls from the top and down the sides of the shaker as she infuses the whiskey. The whole process is mesmerizing.

I stare in wide-eyed fascination. "I never would've thought to add smokiness to a drink before."

"You'd be surprised by the flavor that it brings out of the whiskey."

"I bet." I make a mental note to add a smoke gun to my shopping list.

Once finished, she passes us a sample glass of the whiskey. "You need to try the whiskey by itself, first."

I take a sip. The smoky flavor adds a rich and savory element of smoothness to the dark liquid. "This tastes amazing. I can picture myself drinking this curled up next to the fireplace on a cold winter night." Garrett would really like this. Fuck. Why am I thinking of Garrett? I push the thoughts away .

Isabella nods excitedly. "Yes. Exactly. It gives it a cozy feeling." Then she starts on the next drink.

Unable to contain my excitement, I rise to my feet for a better view of everything she's doing. Tony continues to sit on the stool next to me. She uses a paring knife to delicately slice the orange peel into a twist for garnish. I lean in closer to examine her technique. From his stool, Tony does the same. His hand rests on my lower back and my body stiffens for a moment. Not wanting to give anyone the wrong idea, I inch away from him and his hand drops. I continue to watch Isabella intently as she places the garnish delicately on top of the drink when she's done, then she slides it across the table to us.

"So how long have you two been married?" Isabella wipes a rag over the bar as she prepares to make the next drink.

I choke on my drink. "O-oh! We're," I point between me and Tony, "not married."

"I'm sorry. My mistake. I saw his ring and assumed."

"We're just friends. We've known each other," I glance at Tony, "for close to twenty years."

"That's a long time," Isabella says.

I keep the info about us dating to myself. I don't want to give her the wrong impression or fuel the impression she already has. "He's just a really good friend."

Tony wraps his arm around my waist and pulls me closer to him. "Good friends."

I slide out of his grasp. Again, I don't want her getting the wrong idea. "So, what's the next drink?"

"This one is my favorite." She grabs a collection of various bottles and liquors and pours them into a shaker. "So, are you guys going to stay for dinner?"

"Dinner's an option? After all these drinks, I could use something to soak up the alcohol. "

"Definitely, I'll arrange a table for you guys. You're in luck. Chris is in the kitchen tonight, so he'll make you anything on or off the menu."

"Please tell me you'll join us."

Tony sits up straighter on his stool and clears his throat. "I'm sure Isabella has a lot to do."

She shakes her head. "I don't want to impose."

"No imposing. I would love to pick your brain some more. Please join us for dinner." I plead. I'm only seconds away from climbing over the bar and getting on my knees to beg her to have dinner with us.

"If you don't mind?—"

"Of course not." I turn to face Tony. "Right? You don't mind."

His gaze flickers upward and his nostrils flare. "No. Not at all."

Over the next two hours, I ask Isabella a million different questions, and she happily answers all of them while Tony leans against the chair and stares at his phone screen. Chris, Isabella's husband, made me the most orgasmic mushroom risotto. I'd try to make it myself, but there's no way I could come close to replicating the dish. I wasn't going to waste a single second of my time with Isabella. She's my rock star of mixology and just in the short time with her, I learned so many new techniques and new flavor combinations that I'll be implementing. She even gave me referral codes to a couple of local shops to buy products. As if that wasn't enough, she also gifted me a set of her signature stainless steel shakers that I'm almost too scared to ever use because they're so nice, but I will shake the shit out of drinks with them. Of course, she also gave me a signed copy of her upcoming book that I will cherish forever. When I die, I want to be buried with this book .

When we arrive back at the hotel, Tony sits my gift box from Isabella on the table. I'm still riding the high from the evening and probably will be for the next year. "Thank you so much for today. It was absolutely amazing. It was like a dream come true. I don't know how I could ever repay you." I shrug out of my coat and Tony does the same.

"Seeing your smile is the only repayment I need."

"Thank you again." I wrap my arms around his shoulders and give him a hug. When I pull away, his hands tighten around my waist. I glance up and his dark eyes bore into mine.

His hand slides down, resting on my lower back. "I miss this," he whispers.

"Me too. I'm glad we could become friends again." I give him a tight-lipped smile.

"No. I miss you. Us." His other hand reaches up and tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. "I miss this. What we had."

"Tony." My voice is low. "You don't mean that. I think all the whiskey's gone to your head."

"No. I know exactly what I mean." His hand brushes my cheek before it snakes to the back of my neck.

Alarm bells blare inside my head as my hackles rise. "Tony, you're married."

"It can be our friendly secret." He bends down, his lips centimeters away from mine.

"Tony. No." My voice is firm. With my palms on his chest, I shove him away. He's resistant at first, but I shove harder until he stumbles back. "What the hell are you doing? We're just friends! You're married!"

He runs his hand through his hair before his dark, stormy eyes meet mine. "I bring you here, pay for everything, set up a meeting with your idol, and this is how you repay me? "

I flinch at his words. Was he expecting me to have sex with him? Bile rises in my throat.

"Is this about Garrett?" He snarls.

"What the fuck, Tony? This has nothing to do with Garrett. Why are you even mentioning him?"

"You're dating him, aren't you?"

"What the hell does it matter?"

"Are you dating him or not?" he grits out.

"We're taking," I pause, "a break." Hell, I don't know what we're doing anymore. I don't know anything.

Tony stomps away, but after a few steps, he spins around and charges me. "It's always about him. The fucking golden boy. Everything is handed to him on a silver fucking platter. Anything he wants, he gets. Including you."

My entire body trembles. Either from rage or fear, I'm not sure. Maybe a combination of both. I've never seen Tony like this. Maybe what Garrett told me was the truth. "Did you cheat on me? When we were dating?" I tilt my head, studying him.

He huffs out a humorless laugh. "Is that what he told you? And I suppose you'll believe him because you're fucking now."

"Yes or no, Tony." I glare at him. "That's the real reason he punched you. Not because he's jealous." His hard eyes stare at me for a long minute. His silence gives me the answer I was looking for. "Or how about you only dated me so Garrett couldn't. Is that true too?" The throbbing vein in his neck gives him away. Everything Garrett told me was the truth. Once again, I'm made to look like the fool. My head throbs. "I don't want to deal with this right now. We can hash it out in the morning." I side step Tony, but he stops me.

"Get out!" He roars out the words like a dragon's breath .

I flinch. "You're kicking me out?" My chest tightens. It's strangling me so much I can't breathe.

"Yes, now get out of my goddamn hotel room!" He stomps toward the door and yanks it open. "I don't want dirty sluts in my room."

Tears prick the corners of my eyes, and I fight to keep them at bay. What is happening right now? Like a flip of a switch, he's changed into someone completely different. "What am I supposed to do? Where am I supposed to go?"

"Figure it out." He grabs my wrist, and I yelp in surprise. He pushes me out the door. I stumble a couple of steps until my palms hit the other side of the hallway and I regain my balance. The echo of the door slamming races down the corridor. This time, I can't hold my tears back. Gravity takes over, and they slide down my cheeks. My suitcase. I stomp to the door and pound my fist against the wood. "At least let me collect my stuff!"

When he doesn't answer, I pound again. A minute later, the door flies open. He tosses my half-open suitcase into the hallway. I barely have time to move out of the way. My shoes and underwear topple out and scatter across the carpet. Next, he throws the box from Isabella, the contents inside rattling around as it smashes into the opposite wall.

"There's your shit." The door slams behind him.

My entire body trembles as I frantically shove everything into my suitcase.

A hotel guest from across the hall peeks her head out the door. "Is everything okay?" Concern laces her voice.

I nod as I attempt to choke back a sob. "I-I'm fine. Thank you."

Once my suitcase is packed again, I grab the box and tuck it under one arm. I roll my suitcase behind me to the bank of elevators. This was one of the best days of my entire life, and now it's the worst. When I reach the lobby, I plop down on a couch, defeated, and set the box next to me. I'm the world's biggest idiot. How did I not see this coming? What the hell am I going to do? I can't afford to stay here alone. Plus, I'd rather not stay anywhere near Tony. Since I'm unfamiliar with the city, I pull out my phone and dial the first person I can think of.