Page 81 of What I Like About You

“I was a different person back then. We both were,” she said, hearing the resignation in her own voice. “But that night is the reason I became who I am, so I guess there is a silver lining to it.”

“No wonder he was so hell-bent on making the other night perfect.”

“And it was perfect, just not sustainable. Sometimes love just isn’t enough, right?”

“You can still make it work!” Drea exclaimed.

“Don’t worry, Drea, this won’t affect my write-up of the spa. I can remain completely objective,” she said, putting on her lady-boss face. “Or, if you prefer, I can have Antwan handle it.”

“Fuck the spa!” Drea whisper shouted, throwing her hands in the air. Antwan opened his mouth to make what Zara was sure was some sort of smart-ass comment, but she threw him a look before he could get anything out. This was not the time. “I know we don’t know each other that well, but I really like you. And I’d really like for us to be friends. You’re important to Dalton, therefore you’re important to me. Can’t you guys talk it out…figure out some sort of compromise?”

“He’s not interested in compromise. He's interested in me giving up everything I’ve worked for because he’s too scared to come home. I know he plays things close to the vest, but I’m sure you’ve figured out by now that he carries a lot of weight on his shoulders. And…I get it,” she said, her voice catching. She felt a surge of emotion wash over her, and she swallowed hard, letting it pass before continuing. “A lot of demons wait for him back there. But at the end of the day, he apparently doesn’t love me enough to face them.”

Drea sighed, seeming to accept everything Zara just told her. She nodded, a sad smile spreading across her face. An awkward silence hung in the air for a moment, none of them knowing what to say next. How did one follow up such a conversation?

“Looks like our car is here,” Antwan finally said, nodding toward a black town car that was pulling up.

“It was great to meet you, Drea. If you’re ever in Atlanta, please let us know.”

Before Zara knew what hit her, Drea threw her arms around her neck and squeezed her tight, in the kind of hug you give someone you haven’t seen in years. Zara had to bite back more tears as she returned the hug, in all its intensity. Being hugged like this, by someone who was only a couple of steps removed from being a stranger, made Zara’s heart ache again for the kind of female friendship she’d briefly hoped for. After what felt like forever, Zara finally pulled away, blinking hard so Drea didn’t see just how overemotional she’d gotten from a simple hug.

Antwan took her hand as they headed to the car and passed their bags to the driver. As they slid into the back seat, Zara threw her head back against the headrest and closed her eyes. It was time to go home. Her bed was calling.

As was a pint of ice cream.

* * *

There was just enoughof a breeze coming off the water to help keep the movement of the hammock on top of the boathouse swaying evenly as Dalton stared into space. Throwing his arm over his eyes, he tried to block out some of the bright light, which was starting to give him a headache. Although maybe the headache that was brewing had more to do with all the booze he, Kyle, and Cullen had consumed the night before than the bright light. The sun was not helping either way.

Immediately after leaving the Purple Rain yesterday afternoon, Dalton had made his way to the only place he could think to go to try and get his head on straight. He’d texted his buddies who had shown up within moments, each carrying a bottle of something, ready for whatever it was that could have warranted an SOS text. The tears he’d been fighting on his way out of Purple Rain had only made a brief appearance, and he’d thought he’d collected himself enough to be able to fill them in on what had happened. But once he got to the part about how he’d lost his temper and walked away, the tears were back. He waited for one of his friends to make a comment about turning in his man card for crying over a woman, but neither one of them did. They both just listened until there was nothing left to say, and then they just sat and drank in silence.

The sound of a glass bottle toppling over and hitting the wood of the deck was accompanied by a loud groan and a very British string of cuss words that could only have come from Cullen. Dalton only understood about half of whatever it was that just came from Cullen’s mouth, but he seconded the emotions behind them. He knew he had slept some, since he’d woken up at some point, but he had no idea for how long or what time it was now. Hell, he didn’t even remember crashing in the hammock. The alcohol had done little to actually numb the pain he was feeling, and now the aftermath was just adding a new level to it.

“What time is it?”

“Late enough you might consider letting your boss know you might not be making it on this afternoon’s tour,” Cullen told him.

“I already asked Bobby to take Turtle Cove today,” Kyle said. Dalton rolled over enough to open one eye and see Kyle emerge from the trap door, carrying a to-go container and three travel cups.

“I’ll be fine,” Dalton muttered.

“Dude, even if your hangover is gone by that point, you’re not in the right state of mind. I’m the boss, so I get to make the call. Bobby’s handling the tour,” he said, setting the containers down on the little table. “I brought muffins. You need help out of that thing?”

“I got it,” he grumbled, resenting that his best friend thought he couldn’t get out of a hammock. Shifting his weight, he swung a leg out to start the roll that he’d perfected over the years for getting out of this position, but seemed to do too much of either one or the other, resulting in him tumbling out of the hammock. He landed on the deck with a thud, his breath knocked out of him for a half second, though the only thing that was probably bruised was his ego.

“Maybe I did need help,” he commented, just before pushing himself up into a standing position. His head ached and his mouth was dry, but other than that, he felt better than he probably should, given everything he was pretty sure he consumed in the last twelve hours. “How are you two so awake?”

“We’ve been up for a couple of hours,” Kyle told him.

“Not to mention, we didn’t have near as much as you did last night, mate.”

“Were you here all night?” Dalton asked, rubbing his temple.

“Someone had to babysit your arse,” Cullen joked, grabbing one of the to-go cups and taking a sip.

“Hmmm,” he grunted in return, taking the muffin and coffee Kyle was currently handing him. They ate in silence, and Dalton was grateful that no one decided to push the issue. He didn’t want to talk about how he felt right now. Didn’t want to break down again over losing the only woman he’d ever loved—the only one he could ever love. He knew he was an ass to her yesterday afternoon, and he didn’t want to face that fact either.

He was still having trouble wrapping his mind around what the argument had really been about. It might have started out as their lack of compromising and how neither seemed to want to back down on who had to give everything up, but then it morphed into more. She’d called him out on his relationship with his father. Or well, lack thereof. On how he had simply left rather than be a man and face the whole situation head on.