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Placing her dishes in the sink, she says goodnight but stops just shy of the door.
“Just so you know, if you were pregnant, I’d have been there for you, no judgment,” she says in a neutral tone. “If anyone understands what it’s like to make poor decisions, it’s me. But sometimes, those poor decisions lead you down the right path.”
I smile back at Charlie, knowing everything she just said is true. Charlie has always been supportive, and I consider her family, not just a friend or the wife of my boss. When it comes to our relationship, she knows me better than I know myself at times.
Following in her footsteps, I turn off the lights and head toward the guest bedroom. I know Noah is staying at the other end of the house but decide to send him a quick text once I settle myself into bed.
Me: Thank you for tonight. You are exactly what I needed at this moment.
I didn’t expect him to respond given how late it is. Still holding onto my phone, I stare into the ceiling. Charlie is right. I’ve made poor decisions, and now is the
time to make sensible ones. I texted Dominic three days ago demanding he give me a better answer than ‘there’s nothing left to say.’ I’m done trying to force him to be someone or say something he can’t be or cannot say.
The mixture of tequila and vodka still swirling inside of me gives me the confidence to re-evaluate my life before I spiral out of control to the point of no return. Ironic, since it’s supposed to have the reverse effect.
My mother always taught me to count my blessings, not my troubles.
I’m not pregnant.
Blessing.
How easily I could’ve fucked up my life for good. The walk of shame is something I don’t take lightly, and for now, to steer myself away from it, I shut my eyes to welcome sleep until my phone buzzes.
Noah: Ditto, Bonnie. Next time we should try to rob a bank, make our criminal record worthy of the news. Sleep well, Kate.
A smile escapes my lips, shaking my head with a gentle laugh at his suggestion to imitate Bonnie and Clyde with their notorious crime spree.
I place my phone on charge beside me, welcoming sleep once again. Tomorrow is a new day, and I’ll be damned to live another day being someone I’m not.
Onward and upward, or follow Eric’s mantra—bad vibes don’t go with my outfit.
For once, Eric sounds perfectly sane.
NOAH
Charlie is far from forgiving the next morning, purposely waking up the household early, banging on pots and pans plus running the vacuum just to annoy me.
The girls enter my room several times, and I vow that one day I’ll wake up early enough to beat them to the chase. Since I’ve been here, I’ve stopped going to the gym and running each morning, something I did almost every day back home.
I barely slept. The entire night I had recurring nightmares that a cast of crabs had invaded my pants and had bitten off my dick. I kept waking up in a cold sweat, checking to make sure everything was intact, only then to fall asleep and have the same nightmare.
After showering and changing into my suit pants and collared dress shirt, I follow my usual routine by styling my hair and applying aftershave. I don’t feel like shaving today, allowing my five-o’clock shadow to remain on my face.
Tired and irritable, I make my way to the kitchen, my stomach growling in the process. Even with the copious amounts of drinking last night, I crave something deliciously oily. I wonder what the chances are of Charlie frying me up some bacon.
Kate’s already at the table, fiddling with her cell. She stayed the night instead of crashing at her other friend’s place. Lifting her gaze away from the screen, she spots me entering the room and mouths something about Charlie, which I can’t quite understand. Ignoring her for just a moment, I grab the pot of coffee and pour myself a mug along with a piece of toast that sits on a plate beside the coffee maker. I’m a coffee addict at the best of times, but this morning, it tastes like fucking heaven.
A second later, my cell vibrates in my pocket. I remove it and read the text Kate just sent me.
Kate: Beware the wrath of a woman who didn’t get laid by her husband last night.
Oh, c’mon. I don’t need to know this shit. I shoot her an annoyed look, responding to her text immediately.
Me: Fuck you very much.
“I don’t know what it is you guys are talking about, but know this… I’m tired,” Charlie tells us with her back toward the table while making a sandwich, which she slides into a brown paper bag.
“Good morning, my loving cousin, you look very nice this morning.” I smile, trying my best to get back into the good books with her.
