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Chapter Twenty
Ryan
When I glance out the dusty window, it looks as if the sun was setting, but that can’t be right. The guys and I just got here a bit ago, an hour maybe. Two tops.
“You all right, boss?” Danny asks, his eyes full of concern.
“Yep. Feelin’ greaaaaaaaat,” I slur, drawing out the vowels as if it were a thirty letter word.
“I can see that. Hey, I went ahead and called Jaime for you, okay?” he asks, setting a glass of clear liquid in front of me.
“I’m not mixing vodka with my tequila, Dan-Oooooooo. And why would you call Jaime? I’m supposed to meet her for dinner in a bit. Let me know when it’s five so I can head home and clean up.”
“Yeah, it was five about three hours ago,” he says with a firm slap on my back.
“Bullshhhhhhhhit,” I grumble and grab my phone. The numbers on the clock dance before my eyes as if they’re suddenly on the move. As steady as I try to hold it, the damn numbers just keep shaking. “Why’d ya call my girl?”
“Because someone needs to come help you home. I’d do it, but I’m not as pretty as she is to wake up next to,” he laughs. “Besides, you’re not really my type,” he adds.
“She’s fuckinnnn’ beautiful, isn’t she? Like, I can’t breathe whenever she’s around. I want to fall to my knees and thank God every time she smiles at me,” I mumble. “But then I think ‘bout Orlandooooooo and he’s at home crying ‘cause he lost his wife, his whole world. I don’t want to lose my wife, man.”
“You gotta have a wife to lose one,” he says matter-of-factly.
“I want one. I want her to be my wife. Will she be my wife?”
“You’re asking the wrong person, man. If you want to marry her, you should ask her,” he says, throwing a twenty down on the bar as a tip. “But you should probably wait and ask her when you’re sober.”
“I am so-burrrrrr,” I tell him.
“As sober as a fish swimming in a barrel of Jim Beam,” he smarts off. Mr. Smarty Pants can kiss my...
I remember telling the bartender that drinks were on me, but I have no clue if I’ve paid anything yet or not. The rest of the crew all left throughout the course of the evening, but I didn’t feel like going home alone. Instead, I decided to drink my problems away, lost in the despair I witnessed first hand when we went to see Orlando. His eyes were bloodshot and he looked like he hadn’t slept in days.
Thoughts of someday losing a spouse have sent me spiraling into a bottle of whiskey. In every scene, I picture a gorgeous woman with long brown hair and light green eyes. The idea of one day waking up and finding her gone has left me troubled and scared. Suddenly, the life I want so damn bad with Jaime is looking more like a death sentence. I mean, why the fuck would I want to dive headfirst into a long term relationship just to be left gutted and heartbroken in the end?
I don’t want that.
But I want Jaime.
But I can’t have her without one day losing her.
But if it happens now, maybe it won’t hurt as bad as it will later.
My brain hurts as alcohol-induced thoughts bounce from one extreme to the other. Closing my eyes, I take several deep, calming breaths just to try to settle my stomach. The booze I consumed threatens to make a reappearance, and my head pounds as if a drummer took up residence between my ears.
“Look who’s here,” Danny says as he slaps a hand on my back and stands up.
My goddess walks in, her eyes filled with concern. I’m finally able to breathe again. For the first time since I walked into Orlando’s house, my lungs fill with air.
“Hi,” she says stepping up to me.
Her hair is pulled back in a loose knot behind her head. My fingers twitch to dive in, freeing those sexy-as-fuck locks from captivity.
“Come ‘er,” I mumble, extending my hand towards her.
“You got him?” Danny asks.
“Yeah, we’re good,” she says without taking her eyes off mine.
