Not Quite Enough (Not Quite #3)(3)
Author: Catherine Bybee

“This is bad. Oh, so bad.”

“When do you see him again?”

“I’m off tomorrow. We were going to get together for dinner.” A dinner that was supposed to be a dress-up affair. Monica dropped her head in her hands again. “Am I too old to run away?”

“Yes.”

“But—”

“No buts. Let him go before he pops the question. Men don’t recover from that kind of rejection.”

“You really think he wants to marry me?”

“Diamonds aren’t for promise rings.”

Monica pushed off the couch and moved to her locker. Inside she fished through her purse for aspirin. “Two months. We’ve only dated two months.” She didn’t see this coming.

“You’ve known him for over a year.”

“So?”

“Didn’t your sister agree to marry her husband in less time than that?”

“They were different.” They loved each other to bits. Mutually.

Monica didn’t love John.

This needed to end.

Tonight. Before anyone got hurt.

Wearing scrubs… possibly the most unattractive outfit ever, Monica insisted that John meet her for a drink at a quiet bar not far from her apartment. She opted for her hospital-issue uniform in an effort to hide her curves. She swept her blonde hair up into a ponytail and rid her high cheekbones of the blush she’d had on earlier in the day. There was no hiding her light blue eyes unless she wore sunglasses in the dim bar. After sending him a brief text that they “needed to talk,” she hoped her words didn’t translate into anything romantic.

She’d found a quiet table in the back, away from the men walking in and searching for a good time. Her earlier conversation with Gary Owens kept her from ordering anything other than an iced tea. As much as she wanted the liquid courage, she would wait until she got home and sank into a hot tub with a glass of wine.

Three televisions lit up the space behind the bar. Two were focused on baseball games while the third was on the evening news.

She sipped her tea and checked her watch right as the door opened letting the evening sun into the room.

John was easy on the eyes. Light brown hair cut military short. Not quite six feet tall, he strode into the room and spotted her.

Monica nodded and attempted to smile.

Her earlier headache started to pound again.

“Hey.” He slid into the seat opposite her. “Must have been a bad day if you’re drinking Long Islands.”

“We were busy.” She didn’t correct his assumption.

He slid his hand over the table and covered hers. “I’m glad you messaged me. I know I don’t like going home alone after a bad day.”

Monica flinched.

John’s eyes narrowed. “Is everything OK?”

As slowly as she could, Monica removed her hand from under his. “I had a hard day, but that isn’t why I wanted to meet with you.”

Someone at the bar yelled at the TV, drawing her attention away for a moment. She hated this part. Not that she was an expert at it or anything, but hooking up was always easier than splitting off.

“What’s up?” John tucked his hands in his lap, his gaze pinned to her face.

She glanced around the dark bar. It was quiet… early. She kept her voice low. She got right to the reason she’d asked him there. “The other night, when you were talking about moving in… I realized that maybe we weren’t looking for the same thing.”

He fidgeted and sat taller. “You’re not ready to move in with me. I get it. We’ll slow down.”

She shook her head. “I don’t think slowing down is going to help. I’m… I’m not ready for commitment.”

He sat back and crossed his arms over his chest. The defensive move wasn’t lost on her. The smile on his lips fell. “What are you saying, Monica?”

She rubbed her hands on her cotton scrubs. “We’ve had a good time.”

His mouth opened, then closed. “A good time?” He rubbed his thumb against his forefinger. “I was a good time? I thought we were getting along.”

“We were. Are. This is hard, John. We work together. I don’t want to mess up my job… your job.”

“Then don’t.”

If only it were that easy. “I think you’re into us more than I am. I wish I felt more, but I don’t.”

He ran a hand through his hair. “You’re breaking up with me.”

Monica sat on her hands. “I’m sorry. I’m not ready for a committed relationship. I don’t even have a pet.”

“Is there someone else?”

“No. Of course not. I don’t want to lead you on. Make you think I want something deeper when I don’t.” He had to understand that… right?

“I really thought we had something special.” Through the veil of anger was a lining of hurt behind his eyes. For that she was very sorry.

“I’m sorry.” She couldn’t look at him.

“Commitment is part of growing up.”

Instead of saying anything, she skirted her gaze across the room.

“You have to grow up sometime.” His words were harsh. Considering the shitty day she had… very harsh. She was trying to spare his feelings. Trying to let him down easy.

The noise from the bar hushed and someone turned up the volume on the news.

“Don’t make this harder than it has to be, John. We were friends before. I’d like us to stay that way now.” She did. Though she wasn’t stupid enough to believe being only friends would work.

“That’s it? I don’t have a say?”

“You can say what you want. It isn’t going to change my feelings.” She met his eyes.

John stretched his neck and pushed away from the table. “Maybe in a few days I can say something nice. But right now I want a drink… alone.”

“I’m sorry,” she said to his back as he walked out the door.

That went well.

She pushed a long-suffering breath through her lips and pushed out of her chair. One dirty martini wouldn’t hurt.

Monica made her way to the bar and flagged down the bartender. She ordered her drink and looked over her shoulder.

John wasn’t coming back.

Monica pulled a ten dollar bill from her wallet and set it on the counter. When the bartender placed her drink in front of her he asked if she needed change.

“We’re good,” she told him as she lifted her drink.