Page 27 of Wine & Dine

“When my dad left, my mom was depressed. She was anxious, too. She thought we were all going to leave her or die. She had to take pills to keep herself on track. It’s not a bad thing,” he adds, leveling his eyes on me. “She’s better with them.”

“I’m just going through something…” My voice drifts off. I’ve actually read about it this week. Adjustment disorder. It’s when a major change in your life occurs—by natural circumstances or unexpectedly—and the body can shut down, or emotions run deeper than regular. I’m not self-diagnosing, but it sounds more likely that I have this condition. I don’t want to blow it off as a phase, but some recommendations include exercise and staying busy—neither of which I have been doing until the past few days.

I’m not certain keeping busy helped.

“How about some mindless television?” Garrett rolls for the remotes on the opposite stand and clicks on the television. The sound comes loud, filling the room.

“Sorry about that. I play Fortnite when I can’t sleep.”

“Isn’t that a video game for kids?”

“I’m a child at heart.”

I stare at the flat screen as he lowers the volume and switches to the guide.

“I heard you through the wall one night.”

He stares back at me. “Playing Fortnite?”

I shake my head. “With Blondie.”

“Alicia?” His eyes widen. “You think…” His voice halts as he chokes. “I don’t have sex in here.” He’s almost appalled at the suggestion.

“What?”

“This is my domain. I don’t share this space with hookups.” His crass explanation startles me, and I blink. He scrolls through the channels as he asks, “What did you hear?”

“Something about get it and go left. Right there, I think.”

He laughs in response. “That was definitely video game speak. No one says go left during sex.”

I’m a bit mortified we’re having this conversation, so I keep my lips clamped shut for a second.

“And for the record, Alicia and I aren’t a thing. We were once upon a time, but not now and never again.”

“So no hookups in here?” I say, looking around the room. He must be lying. I’ve been in here. I’ve even had an orgasm in this bed. Granted, I was alone but still. “What about me?”

“You’re not a hookup, sweetheart,” he says, narrowing his eyes as he glares at me.

Of course not, I think. I’m a hot mess. Why would he possibly want to hook up with me?