He looks exactly like Stuart.
Well, not exactly. Where Stuart is light-eyed and blond, this guy is dark and possibly dangerous. But they give off the same energy. That cocky confidence that says, I know what I want out of life, and I’m going to do whatever it takes to get it.
And from the way his thigh presses into mine and how he leans in just a little too close to ask if I could use another drink, I get the sense that I may have just been added to the want list.
“So, what do you do?” His voice booms loud, but his eyes make it clear that the question is directed at me and only me.
I almost tell him that I’m a buyer for Eaton’s Drug Mart but catch myself right as I open my mouth. “I own a beauty supply store over on James.” The words come out rather proudly. “So does Dax. Well, not beauty, but sneakers. You should totally check it out.”
Elliott’s eyes shift past me momentarily to where Dax is sitting staring into his beer stein. Elliott’s eyes drop to Dax’s sneaker-clad feet, then rise back up again.
“I don’t think I’ve stepped into a shoe store in years,” Elliott exclaims. “Can’t seem to find the time. I buy everything online these days. Gotta think it’s been a shit couple of years to be in retail, eh, man?”
Dax, I notice, forces a smile. “Can’t say it’s been easy.”
There’s an awkward beat before Elliott turns his attention back to his beer. And although I want to continue—to gush about Dax’s incredible talent—Dax seems as eager to talk about his work as Elliott is to listen, so I let the conversation shift to a new topic: travel.
Lux and Leo are going to Iceland for their honeymoon. Hiking. Geysers. They’re doing the whole deal, and it sounds exciting and wonderful and romantic.
“Ever been to Iceland?” Lux asks both Dax and me.
I shake my head. “I’ve never been to Europe.” Or at least I think that’s the case. Stuart was too busy with work to travel. Kierst had little kids she needed to be home for. I was terrified of going anywhere on my own. Travel to foreign destinations was limited to Friday nights watching House Hunters International.
But here, now, listening to Lux and Leo talk about whale-watching and soaking in the Blue Lagoon, I let myself dream a little about seeing the world. Argentina. Croatia. My bucket list is growing exponentially by the minute. And as I picture myself seeing every place, I imagine Dax there beside me.
“I’ve got a good buddy who has a place in the South of France.” Elliott startles me out of my daydream. “He rents the place out to friends. Right near the beach in Saint-Tropez. I can hook you up if you want.”
Dax and me in the South of France. “Oh my god, that would be great.” My dream morphs to include crystal-blue waters, wine, and picnics in the sun until it’s brought abruptly to an end by the screech of a chair as Dax stands.
“Anyone need anything while I’m up?”
I still have three-quarters of my beer, as do the rest of my friends. With no takers, Dax nods and heads toward the men’s room. I get a weird vibe as he walks off. Nothing specific triggers it （the man is allowed to pee）， but as he disappears into the crowd, I have a strange sense that something is off with him.
However, Lux distracts me, diving into a story about her and Leo’s last trip to Mexico. It quickly shifts to inside jokes that make the two of them laugh and look at each other as if they were completely alone at the table.
I’m watching them, feeling a little envious or homesick or just plain old jealous, when Elliott leans in. “I know you’re here with your friend, but we should hang out later.”
His words send a prickle up my back with déjà vu.
Elliott is not Stuart—we’ve established that. But the lean and his words remind me of the night Stuart and I first met.
Rewind to a few weeks ago, when I was margarita-drunk and hurting. I wished I could teleport back to the night I met Stuart and do everything differently. To get in a cab and go home alone. In a weird, twisted way, it feels like I’m getting to fulfill that wish.
“Thanks, but I’m good.”
Elliott shrugs, looking far from forlorn. “It was worth a shot. At least give me some details about your store. My buddy’s girlfriend loves that shit. I’ll tell her to check it out.”
“Give me your phone,” I say to Elliott, who hands me an iPhone I swear isn’t even available yet. I open his contacts and plug in Wilde Beauty’s address, website, and store phone number.