“No,” I say after lifting it up and turning it in my hands.
A little bit of hope takes root and begins to bloom in my chest when I think about it possibly being from Jacob.
I try not to let it grow too much, but I havementioned my favorite wine to him before. In fact, it's the same type of wine I had given him that time with the cheese and bread.
“Well, it's a nice little gift from whoever gave it.” She leans in for a hug and then whispers, “Goodnight, sweetie.” And then she's walking off.
I take the bottle into the kitchen with me, dumping my purse next to it on the counter. Then I eye the glasses sitting on the drying rack, thinking about whether or not I should open the bottle up now and if it really is a peace offering from him.
I can't help but wonder what Jacob is doing right now? Has he been going fishing?
Shit, he doesn't even have a vehicle to get them to the market. My insides squeeze tight, thinking about it again.
Tahnee said that he probably needs time, but I'm having a hard time not walking down the beach right now and pounding on his door until he answers.
Grabbing a clean glass, I decide to have just one drink. I already have a slight buzz going, but I don't have to work in the morning, and I have nowhere I have to be.
After pouring it almost to the brim, I carry it with me out onto the deck. Choosing to sit on the chaise lounge that we fucked on.
Visions of Jacob whenever he graced me with one of his rare, incredibly beautiful smiles flood my mind.
Because they were so rare, I stored each one of them in a special place in my mind, keeping them locked up but ready to access anytime I want.
I swallow down a few large mouthfuls and lay my head back on the lounge. I try to resist the urge to turn in the direction of Jacob's home, but it's hopeless. After another thirty seconds, my head flops to the side to face his direction.
I know in my heart that everything from the other night was mainly him trying to protect me. I'm just not sure how to convince him that he doesn't need to.
Ugh, how can something like this be fixed?
There's no way I can convince the whole town without showing them some sort of evidence.
I take a few more mouthfuls and then get to my feet, making the quick decision to go see him.
My head spins a little as I walk the few steps down the side of my deck, making me think that I must have drunk more than I realized. But the walk will do me good.
After a few more steps, I take one more sip of the wine in my hand, pour the rest out, and then drop the glass to the sand as well. I'll have to remember to pick it up when I come back this way.
As I walk further along the beach, I find that my head doesn't clear up like I thought it would.
In fact, it becomes even more foggier by the second as I go. I try to shake it away, but it continues getting worse. And then there's a heaviness that starts to settle into my muscles.
With each step I take, it becomes increasingly more difficult to move my legs and hold my head up.
Something isn't right.
Collapsing onto the sand, I decide to take a little break.
“Are you alright?” a voice says from somewhere.
I try turning my head, but everything starts spinning, and I can't seem to focus on the person standing nearby.
“I juss . . .” My words come out slurred, so I try again. “Not feelin' good.”
When my head becomes too heavy to hold up, and I feel my mind being taken under by something, I flop back onto the sand with a groan.
“Shh, it's okay. Just lie back.”
What are you doing? I want to ask the person, but I can't even find the energy to open my mouth anymore.
