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He helps me out of the park and the three blocks to his car. Luckily, he lives close because my stomach is roiling again. He lets me out at the entrance to his building while he parks his car. I lean against the wall, and the doorman asks if I’m alright.
“I need some glue and tape to fix my broken heart.”
He nods understandingly as Zane comes back and takes me by my arm to help me inside. He lives in a penthouse too, but it’s nothing like Jordan’s even though it is nice enough. I’m dropped onto a leather couch, and I shift to put my head on the armrest.
“You can’t sleep here. Come to the guest room.”
“Here is fine.”
“No, it isn’t. I have an aversion to my living room smelling like throw up.”
I hum. “I can just as easily throw up in the guest bedroom.”
He yanks me up by my arm, and I stumble along behind him. He undresses me down to my slacks and pulls back the covers.
“Get in,” he orders. “I’ll get a bucket for you.”
I stand back up and take off my pants, then plop down onto the bed. Zane comes back with a silver champagne bucket.
“Ohh, a little fancy for vomiting in.”
“It’s all I can find. Make sure you get it in the bucket.”
“Zane, you’re a pal.”
“You can tell me the entire story tomorrow morning when your head is throbbing like a thousand hammers are beating you.”
What the fuck happened last night?My head is killing me, and my stomach is queasy. I turn over and stare at the ceiling in the dawning light. It takes me a while to orient myself before I realize that I’m sleeping in Zane’s guest room. I’ve been here before, but not in a very long time.
A silver champagne bucket sits on the floor near the bed, making me realize that I’m very thirsty. I weakly stand and hold the sides of my head while I walk to the kitchen. Zane, in typical bachelor fashion, only has wine, beer, Gatorade, and mustard in his subzero refrigerator.
I grab an orange Gatorade and down it in three huge gulps. It helps with the thirst but not with the headache. The guest bath is right near the bedroom, and I hunt through the medicine cabinet until I find a bottle of aspirin. When I finish, I almost bump into a sweaty Zane.
“Up so early? Amazing.”
“How the fuck did I get here?” I groan.
“You called me. Seems you and Mr. Daniels had a date in the park.”
“Huh?”
“I found you sitting on a bench with a bottle of Jack next to you. You drank half of it. I spilled the rest out, and you vomited most of it on the ground.”
“Then how come I feel like shit if I threw it all up?”
“You tell me. Where were you last night? You were dressed like Indiana Jones.”
It all comes flooding back to me—Jake, Olivia, her betrayal. I suddenly want another drink.
“I went to a party at Jordan Grayson’s,” I explain. “Olivia was there with that Australian guy, Jake.”
“You said that last night. What happened?”
I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to recall the details that led me to my drunken stupor.
“Uh, they were talking about getting back together. Can you believe that shit? She told me to wait, and I was patient. She betrayed me.”
“She wasn’t yours to begin with.”
