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I lift the glass, and another shot of the fiery liquid goes down the hatch right before I suck on a lime to cut the harshness of it.
Five frickin’ days. I’ve been hiding and nursing my bruised heart for five whole days until Sam finally got tired of my moping and dragged me out of the house.
My head started to feel floaty three shots ago, but the incessant ache in my chest is still there.
“Okay. Time to spill. What happened?”
Sam was the first one to my house after I texted her. Even though she ditched her husband on Christmas Day, I still couldn’t talk about it and she didn’t push me. For that I’m thankful.
I suck in a huge breath. “Walked in to see a blonde with her hands all over War. Then he accused me of planning to sell my house and leave town without telling him about it. That’s the whole reason he tricked me into going on these dates with him. He thought I was leaving. He never really wanted me.” I let out a forlorn sigh.
“Wait. Back up a minute. What blonde?”
I wave my hand in the air, no matter that I can’t really feel the limb anymore. “Celeste. Swung by to see him…on Christmas.” I swallow hard against the lump in my throat. “Wanted a repeat or some such bullshit. Can you believe this shit?” My words slur, and I know the hangover tomorrow is going to wreck me, but welcome the distraction. Maybe the pain in my head will dull the one in my heart.
“What did he say to her?”
“According to him? That he was with someone.”
Sam’s concerned gaze lightens a little. “That’s a good thing, right?”
“Sure. We’ll go with that.”
“It doesn’t sound like you think it’s a good thing,” she says while downing her own shot of liquor.
“Is it great that he wasn’t tempted into her bed? Sure. But can we even really call it that if he were to do something since we never said whether we were something or not.”
Sam squints at me. “I think I followed that. You can’t be mad that he told the woman he was seeing someone and then be mad at him because he didn’t not tell her.”
“You know what? You’re right. I’m drunk. I’m gonna go home and sleep this off.”
“One. You’re not driving anywhere. Two, we’re not done talking.”
“Fine.” I draw the word out while reaching for the shot glass and raise it in the bartender’s direction for a refill.
Sam slashes her hand across her throat in the same direction, and I know she just cut me off.
“Bitch.”
“Skank. You’ll thank me for this in the morning when your head doesn’t fall off your shoulders and you’re not barfing your face off.”
“Eh.” I shrug.
“Now, what’s this about you selling your house?”
“Apparently he found out that I had the house appraised, probably from your snuggly, cuddly, honey bear—it’s really not fair that you have one of those and I don’t. You wanna share Gun with me?—then he jumped to the conclusion that I’m selling the house and probably leaving town. I accused him of that being the only reason that he put the pressure on me for these dates and then I told him I’m done. Now can I go home and wallow in misery?”
“No, I’m not sharing my husband with you. I love you, but not that much. And no, you can’t go home yet. Did you try to explain to him that you’re not moving or just jump straight to the accusation that he would use you leaving town against you?”
“Door number two.”
“Figures. Why didn’t you tell him the real reason behind the appraisal?”
I shoot her an incredulous glare. “You know you’re supposed to be on my side, right?”
“I’m not on either person’s side. Just think of me as Switzerland.”
“Switzerland, my ass.” Even in my drunken state I recognize the position I’m putting Sam in. She’s known Warrick a lot longer than she’s known me, and her husband is also his best friend, so she’s the definition of being between a rock and a hard place right now.
