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“What kind of asshole do you think I am? I would never sweet talk you into bed. I like you, Olivia, but… nothing, forget it.”
“But what?” she demands.
“This requires a conversation face to face. I don’t want to hurt you.”
“But… this isn’t what you want. Right?”
“That’s not it! Don’t put words in my mouth,” I growl.
“You’re angry, so I’m going to end this call.”
The phone clicks in my ear, and despair washes over me. I want to call her back, but Noah tells me that the limo has arrived. When we get downstairs, the driver, Albert, takes our bags and puts them in the trunk. Inside the limo, Hunter introduces us to everyone: Jordan, Emma’s fiancé, JC, Matty, Hunter’s best friend, and Chase, Megan’s fiancé. The party already started apparently, because Hunter and Matty are drinking mimosas.
I recognize Jordan from an article in the Wall Street Journal. His company, Grayson Enterprises, had a write up about his dealings with Manhattan waterfront property. I’m comfortable since I know most of the people in the car and strike up a conversation with Chase. Noah is talking to JC, which almost makes me laugh since he married Lexi, Noah’s former fiancé.
The ride to Connecticut takes a little over a couple of hours. We stop twice for pee breaks, probably because almost everyone was drinking. I’m lost in my thoughts when the trip is almost finished. I feel miserable that I hurt Olivia. I take out my phone and type a text to her.
I’m sorry. I want to talk to you when we get back.
O: I think we’ve said all we have to say. It’s obvious I was just a distraction for you. Thanks for the sex.
You were a distraction, but one that I needed. I could never take my eyes off you. As for the sex, it was fantastic.
O: I hope you enjoyed it because it’s that last time you’ll get it from me. I’m busy. Leave me alone.
My face drops, and Noah leans in. “Everything alright?” he asks.
“No, it’s not. I wish I could go back.”
“To Manhattan?”
“No, four days ago, when I rushed into something I wasn’t ready for.”
“What are you girls talking about?” Hunter asks.
“Nothing,” I reply.
“Good. I hope you’re ready for a fun weekend.”
I give him a strained smile. I want to enjoy myself, but my heart isn’t going to be in it. All I’m going to think about is getting home so I can talk to Olivia. But I have no time to wallow in self-pity as we pull up to The Grand Pequot Tower. We’re escorted to a massive suite with a dining room, full bar with top-shelf liquor, a living area, two granite, glass, and marble bathrooms, and three bedrooms. This place is off the hook.
I grab a crystal tumbler and pour a shot of whiskey before slamming it down. I don’t usually drink to excess due to my mother’s issues with alcoholism, but I need to let go this weekend. Hunter tells me that we have a twenty-four-hour butler service, which makes me laugh since Zane’s last name is Butler.
“Something funny about butler service?” he asks.
“Nope. Especially since I can get a hamburger at three in the morning. Woo hoo!”
“Shit, yeah!” He holds up his hand for a high five, and I slap it, then pour another shot of whiskey. Noah leans in and tells me to take it easy, but I push him away and take a glass of champagne that Matty offers. I’m going to be shitfaced by this afternoon at this rate.
We all head down to the casino. Seeing as I brought a couple of thousand in cash, I settle at the roulette table. A waitress comes by, and I order a scotch and soda, handing her a five-dollar tip when she sets it down next to me. My body warms up with the amount of liquor I’ve consumed, but I don’t care if I get drunk. I only want to forget.
“Fuck, how much did I drink?” I slur.
I lean my head against the toilet bowl as another round of vomit makes its way out of my system. I spent four hours in the casino, playing roulette, craps, and then one-armed bandits. Amazingly, I came upstairs with six hundred and twenty dollars more than I went down with, but I drank way too much.
When I glance over at Noah, who is leaning against the door jamb of the bathroom, shaking his head, I wince.
“I told you to take it easy,” he reminds me. “You’re not a drinker. What the fuck has gotten into you?”
