Not Quite Over You. Susan Mallery

never amount to anything, but that was just a bonus.

      She walked into the bank and headed directly to the executive offices. Her appointment was with Libby Saunders, the vice president in charge of commercial lending. Silver had met with her once before, when she’d applied for the loan, and today they were to discuss the outcome of the loan committee meeting. Despite Libby being the mother of one of Silver’s closest friends, the thirty minutes with Libby had been tense and awkward.

      Libby couldn’t have made it more clear she disapproved of Silver, of her business and the viability of her business plan. Silver had been determined to defy the odds. She’d rerun the numbers, had lowered the amount she’d wanted to borrow and had instructed all her friends to pray, burn sage or sacrifice to create good karma.

      She knocked once on Libby’s open office door. The older woman looked up from her computer.

      Libby was in her fifties and nearly a caricature of what people assumed a woman in banking management should look like. She wore dark suits, pearls and always had her hair up in a tight bun. She looked disapproving, with a perpetual almost-frown knitting her eyebrows together. Silver tried to remember if she’d ever seen Libby smile and couldn’t. Not that she was around her that much, but on the surface, the banker was not a happy person.

      “Silver,” she said, the corners of her mouth nearly but not quite lifting in a smile. “How nice of you to be on time.” She motioned to the chair opposite her desk.

      “Libby.”

      Silver sat down and did her best to look confident and professional. She set her briefcase where Libby could see it and be impressed.

      The other woman barely glanced at her estate sale find. “You did an excellent job revising your business plan. The numbers look good.”

      Silver allowed herself an internal fist bump, but kept her expression neutral.

      “Having said that, I’m sorry to tell you that we won’t be giving you the loan. You were right on the edge of being approved, but given the nature of your business—with the potential for liability and lack of steady customers—the committee simply couldn’t come to an agreement.”

      A committee of one, Silver thought, determined not to let her disappointment and bitterness show. Libby had been her last hope. Okay, not Libby but the bank. Silver had already been to every other one in town. There was no point in trying out of the area. Happily Inc was a quirky destination wedding town. Things here moved to their own rhythm. Explaining to a banker outside Happily Inc that she wanted to buy trailers to fix up to be traveling bars for weddings would make her sound like an idiot—despite her excellent business plan.

      “I am sorry,” Libby added, her eyes bright with something that looked a whole lot more like satisfaction than regret.

      She should have known, Silver told herself. There was no escaping her past—not in this town. Not with people like Libby around.

      Silver knew the polite thing to do was to thank the other woman or offer to shake her hand or something socially acceptable. But she couldn’t do it. Instead, she nodded before standing and made her way out of the suddenly too-warm office.

      She felt ridiculous in her business clothes, as if she were a child at Halloween. No one was fooled. She was who she had always been—wild Silver Tesdal, the woman who owned a bar and didn’t give a damn about what anyone thought of her.

      She held on to her stupid briefcase as she crossed the lobby, her heels clicking on the marble floor.

      “Silver?”

      The voice came from behind her. She didn’t have to turn around to know who was calling her name. She did her best not to hunch like a cat in the rain, even as she faked a smile.

      “Drew. Fancy seeing you here.”

      She didn’t express surprise at seeing him—Drew also worked at the bank. He was, in fact, heir apparent to the glory that was California First Savings and Loan. A fact that was no doubt thrilling to him, annoying to her and completely irrelevant when it came to her loan.

      His dark gaze swept over her, taking in the skirt, the heels and the briefcase. “What are you doing here?”

      “Visiting an old friend.”

      “You don’t have any friends here,” he told her.

      “Yes, I’m aware of that.” More so now than ever.

      Unfortunately, Drew wasn’t an idiot. He looked from her back to the executive offices.

      “You had a meeting with Libby.”

      “She is in charge of commercial loans.” She began walking toward the exit.

      All she had to do was get in her truck, then get home. She would go for a four-mile run, take a shower, scream into a pillow, and then mask her disappointment with a bottle of red wine and a burger. Tomorrow she would be strong and determined, but tonight there would be wine.

      “Your loan application for the Airstreams,” he said, as if putting the pieces together. “The loan committee isn’t supposed to meet until tomorrow.”

      “They decided to meet early.”

      She could see the glass door leading to the parking lot, could almost touch it. Freedom was just. So. Close.

      He stepped between her and the door. “She turned you down.”

      Not a question and not anything she wanted to talk about.

      Sarcasm would be easy. There were a thousand choices, each of them more biting than the one before. Sarcasm could be a weapon, as were lies and the act of simply ignoring him and walking away. They were also proof that she felt the need to protect herself, as if Drew could still hurt her. Twelve years after the fact, shouldn’t she not care in the least? Wouldn’t that be the real victory?

      She summoned a genuine smile. One that made her seem smart and confident and more than capable—or so she hoped. Because to her at least, the truth was just so obvious.

      “Drew, there was no way Libby was going to be anything but a long shot. I did my best and I wouldn’t change anything.” Not even falling in love with you all those years ago. Even if you were an immature jerk who didn’t know what he’d lost until it was too late.

      Okay, that last bit might have taken away her claim to the high ground, but at least she’d only thought it rather than saying it.

      “Let me talk to her,” he began.

      “No. It’s done. Let it go. I’m going to.”

      Even if letting it go meant not having two beautiful Airstreams to remodel. There would be other used trailers when she could save enough cash to buy them, refurbish them and gift them with trucks to tow them. She hadn’t done the math, but she would guess her time frame would be two years. Maybe three.

      The thought of waiting all that time was too depressing for words, but hey, that was why there was going to be wine later.

      “It’s not right,” he told her. “I saw your business plan. You’re an excellent risk.”

      “According to Libby, I was right on the margin. Hardly an excellent risk.”

      His gaze flickered. Ah, she thought. Some things never changed. Drew had never been a very good liar.

      “We’re done,” she said, heading for the door.

      Not just with the loan process, she thought, but with whatever had ever been between them all those years ago. She’d processed the anger, hurt, sadness, resentment and nearly every emotion in between. Facing him like this in a moment of disappointment and shame, she was happy to admit she felt almost nothing. Finally. Finally Drew was just some guy she used to know. Talk about a miracle.

      She reached her truck, slid onto the seat and reviewed her plan. A run, a shower, wine and a burger. Celebrating the loan would have been a whole lot better,