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“Thanks,” she said, and she looked like she wanted me to rescue her. But I knew she had to stay whether she wanted to or not. Family obligation and all that shit.
I could have gotten a table but I hated waiting on a server. Besides, I was feeling reckless and a little mean. I decided irritating Christian by sitting at the bar was worth irritating myself in the process.
When I got to the bar Christian was already eyeing me with curiosity. “So what brings your sorry ass in here?” he asked. “I’m guessing it has to do with one Sophie Bigelow.”
“Don’t say her name out loud,” I said, sitting on a stool. “It pisses me off.”
“Everything pisses you off.”
“Mostly just you,” I said. “Give me a shot of Crown.”
I needed a hot burn, all straight down my throat, not something to sip.
Christian just stared at me. I hated when he did that. When we were kids he had never done that. He had been the energetic one, the rough-and-tumble, hyperactive wild child with impulsive tendencies. I had been more intense, more calculated. Him trying to assess me or whatever the hell he was doing was a new thing and I hated it. It’s an odd thing anyway to have to look at someone whose genetics are identical to your own. Obviously, it wasn’t precisely like looking in a mirror, but growing up I had wished that I could just be solo. Just me. Not one of “the twins.” Fortunately, my mother was a lot of things but not organized enough to dress us in coordinated outfits, so we had escaped that scarring fate so many twins endured.
“Stop staring at me, you fucking weirdo,” I finally said when he made no move to get my drink. I was getting even angrier. Maybe coming here had been a bad idea. I felt agitated, my leg bouncing up and down. I could sense Sophie behind me, but I couldn’t have her. That was frustrating as hell.
“You know eventually we’re going to have to talk about stuff.”
Oh, God. When the hell had he become a guy who wanted to talk? “What stuff?”
“Camp. I know you blame me.”
I rolled my eyes so hard I almost fell off the stool. “Of course I do. That’s the stupidest fucking thing you’ve ever said to me. No one grabbed your dick and stuck it where it didn’t belong. But don’t worry. I blame Ali too for being a whore, so you’re not alone on the list of people I wouldn’t piss on if they were on fire.”
“As long as you’ve moved on.” Christian turned his back on me and grabbed the Crown Royal.
“What am I supposed to do? Just forgive you? Would you do that if you were in my position?” What a bunch of bullshit. Why did people who did terrible things always demand forgiveness? Forgiveness allowed them a free pass to behave like a shitty human being. Forgiveness absolved their guilt, eased their conscience. But they didn’t deserve that. They should pay. Because if they didn’t pay, they would do it again. Or something different but just as horrible.
“I don’t owe you anything,” I added.
“I just want you to hear me out.”
“Save it. I don’t want a bunch of excuses.” I took the glass he set down and pulled it to me. I gripped the glass, caressed it, lifted it to feel the heft of the weight. They used cheap barware here because the crowd was younger. It wasn’t satisfying, not the way the glasses at the Thirsty Moose were. Those made you feel like you were holding something solid, stable, important. This felt like a letdown.
“Aren’t you at least a little curious how it happened?” Christian asked, sounding pretty damn sincere.
I snorted. “I’m pretty sure I know how it happened. You took your clothes off and stuck your dick in my girlfriend and she made those stupid orgasm noises she always made. Those annoying whimpers.” I lifted the glass and took the Crown down in one swallow. I was heading in a dark direction. I should probably leave and go to a different bar. One where I wasn’t looking at a mirror I wanted to punch.
“It wasn’t like that.”
“So you were in love?” I sneered at him. “Is that it? She claimed to be mistreated and lonely or some other bunch of bullshit lies and you were there for her? It was magical and you never meant to hurt anyone? Fuck off.” I shoved my stool back and pulled out my wallet. I was going to get in a fight if I stayed. I got out a ten-dollar bill and wadded it up. I threw it at Christian and it bounced off his chest. “Keep the change, motherfucker.”
“Grow up,” he told me.
Right. Because he was just riding the wave of maturity.
“Ali is back,” he said.
That knocked the wind out of me. For a second I felt overwhelmed by a wave of hurt and anger and disappointment. I had loved her, had imagined a future together. I had been a decent boyfriend. Now my brother was trying to give me details on how they wound up fucking the shit out of each other in our bed. And telling me the cowardly bitch who had abandoned her child had reappeared.
I realized it didn’t matter. “So?” I said in the most scathing voice I could muster. Though I did glance around like she might be in the bar.
“She wants to see Camp.”
That figured. She made herself scarce then changed her mind. Typical Ali.
I decided not to waste my breath saying anything else. I walked away from the bar and straight past the bachelorette party, ignoring Sophie and her sister’s friends. I headed back to the Moose. But I did text her.
Let me know where you end up tonight. I’ll get you and you can come home with me.
I was expecting rejection. I knew I was being pushy. She had to hang out with her sister.
An hour later she hadn’t answered me. But I was drunk and I wasn’t going to back down. I wanted her.
I wanted her to do that thing she did, where she made me forget everything that sucked and made me laugh.
So I went back to get her.
