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Just then, the door opens and in walks a couple, their arms thrown around each other in a romantic embrace. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Skyler sit up straight, glaring at the couple who just entered the restaurant. Suddenly, he reaches for my hand again, almost knocking over my water glass.
I should have ordered the margarita. I could use a drink.
He brings it to his mouth, and before I even know what’s happening, he’s sucking on my finger. Sucking. On. My. Finger! I gasp out of shock. He thinks it’s out of excitement. “I’m so glad you came tonight, baby,” he says seductively and low.
My favorite enchilada threatens to make a reappearance.
“Excuse me?” I ask, tugging on my hand, but he refuses to let go.
“Later tonight, I’m going to show you what else I love to suck on,” he says a bit too loudly for my liking and wiggles his eyebrows. The entire time, the squirrel above his lip brushes against my hand, making me consider just cutting it off to make a quicker escape.
“You know what, I think I should go,” I say, pulling my hand back with force and elbowing his glass of water. It topples over, sending cold water and ice into his lap.
“Shit!” he bellows, drawing the attention of everyone in the restaurant, including the couple who just so happened to be walking by our table.
“Skyler?” she asks, shock and anger written all over her face.
“Marge! What a surprise! I didn’t know I’d see you tonight,” he squeaks, blotting at his wet pants with the napkin, making me want to call bullshit.
I dig into my purse and pull out a twenty, ready to get the hell out of Dodge. Tossing it on the table, I scoot from the booth.
“Wait, don’t go, baby.”
“I’m not your baby,” I tell him adamantly, making a beeline for the door without even a glance back. “Thank you for dinner, but I’ll be leaving now.”
I don’t even hang around to hear the rest of the words he immediately starts to exchange with his wife. Ex-wife. Whatever.
As soon as I get in my car, I fire off a text.
Me: Date a total bust. I need booze.
It only takes her a few seconds to reply.
Free: Poker night. I brought wine. Come play.
She had me at wine. I drop my phone into my cup holder and pull out of the parking lot. Before I merge onto the street, the door of the restaurant flies open and Skyler and Marge spill onto the sidewalk. They’re clearly arguing, her hands flying around as she tries to make her point. I turn up the 98 Degrees, blasting “The Hardest Thing,” singing along as if I were standing on stage belting out the words alongside Nick, Jeff, Drew, and Justin.
Boy bands are life.
As I pull into my brother’s driveway, I note Free’s car in the street, along with my brother Samuel’s. Rhenn’s here too, which means they’re probably torturing the poor guy for dating our youngest sister. I should go save him.
Or join the fun.
I don’t knock (I never do) and push my way into my younger brother’s small house. It’s the perfect size for him and my nephew. Two bedrooms with a decent-sized backyard. “Hey,” I holler as I enter the living room and head for the kitchen.
“Hey!” they all reply, the sound of poker chips being thrown onto the table.
I walk up to Jensen first, throw my arms over his shoulder and kiss his head. “Don’t mind if I crash, do you?” I ask, knowing he’d never say yes.
“Do I have a choice?” he teases, noting I’m already sitting down in the empty chair across from him.
“She could leave and take Freedom with her,” Samuel says beside me, glaring at my best friend. She just smiles sweetly in return, tapping the top of the massive pile of chips in front of her.
“You’d miss me, Sammy.”
“Samuel,” he growls, shooting eye daggers her way. She doesn’t seem to mind, though. In fact, I’m one-hundred-percent confident she gets off on ruffling his feathers. It’s sort of her thing.
“I see Free’s cleaning house again,” I state, motioning to the stack of chips in front of her.
