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Is that wise? I don’t want to cause any trouble.
He’s asleep.
All kinds of things are springing into my mind now. He’s asleep, and Lo must be pretty confident that he’s in a deep sleep if she’s cool with talking. Has he drunk himself into a coma? Is that what the deal is here? Is he a raving alcoholic who gets handy with his fists when he’s had too much? I shudder, wishing I could stop my mind from reeling. Lo is one of the gentlest women I’ve ever met. Actually, she’s the gentlest. She’s petite, so tiny and fragile. She’s also timid. Did he make her like that? I try to stamp my mind clear and dial her. It rings once before her whispered hello comes down the line. I’m immediately more uncomfortable about this.
“You okay?” I ask, my voice close to a whisper too, like he might hear me.
“I’m fine. I just wanted—”
“Just wanted to what?” I place my drink on the nightstand and roll onto my side, pulling the duvet up to my waist.
“Nothing.”
‘Tell me,” I push gently.
“I just wanted to hear your voice.”
I swear, my fucking heart bursts with happiness hearing those words. “Well, here I am. And my voice.” I hear her laugh under her breath, a laugh that suggests she feels silly. She shouldn’t. I could listen to her forever.
“So did you have a nice night?” she asks.
“I did. I’ve had way too much to drink.”
“I can’t remember the last time I had a hangover,” she muses.
“You don’t drink much?” Does he drink enough for both of them?
“Not really. I don’t get the chance, to be honest.” She sounds almost wistful, like she’s dreaming of drinking herself into oblivion.
I move my phone to my other ear so I can snuggle my head into the pillow, imagining where she is at this precise moment in time. He’s asleep, so she can’t be in bed. She should be in bed. It’s late. “You sound like you need to.”
“I do. Completely obliterated,” she says decisively, like the simplicity of getting off her face would make her year. And again, my mind starts spiraling. People get plastered to drown in their sorrows. I start plotting, suddenly determined to find a way to get Lo out for a night and let her drink herself into a complete stupor. I wonder what she’s like when she’s drunk. I can’t imagine it. Would she tell me all her secrets? Would she spill everything to me? The possibility, right or wrong, only makes me more determined to find that opportunity.
I roll onto my back and look at the ceiling. “Then we’ll make sure that happens sometime soon,” I say, looking at the door when I hear a few bangs from behind.
“Luke, I’m coming to find you,” Maxine calls, making my eyes bug. Oh hell. I cover the bottom half of my phone and scramble out of bed, just as she comes barreling into my room. Now this is obliterated. She’s hanging on to the door to hold herself up, her body swaying dangerously. “There you are.” She staggers toward me and flops to her back on the bed. “Take me,” she demands, arms and legs sprawled like a starfish.
I deflate on the spot, and I hear Lo calling my name. I step out of my bedroom, knowing I have no hope of shifting Maxine off my bed, and shut the door behind me. “Hey.” I sound as sheepish as I feel.
“Everything okay?” she asks.
“Yeah. Todd’s on a mission.”
“Ooohhhh,” she breathes. “Amanda?”
Wilting, I squeak a “Nope,” not waiting for her to ask how old this one is. “Mid-twenties, I’d guess.” I’m lying. She’s definitely early twenties.
“Oh, Luke.” Her disappointment makes me feel shitty. “I’ll let you get back to your party.”
“It’s not really a party. I’ve left Todd in the bar and come to bed.” I’m blabbering like an idiot.
“I should get to sleep, anyway.”
I want to punch my own face in. Fuck, I don’t want her to go. And I definitely don’t want her to be disappointed in me. I want to tell her that Todd brought the girls back, that I had come to bed alone. There she is struggling through life, unhappy, wanting to hear my voice, and I’m here having a fucking party. God damn me. But what can I say? I can’t go see her. I can’t suggest that she has me pegged wrong, because she doesn’t. All I can do is let her go and hope to God that she’ll speak to me again next week. “Okay,” I say quietly. “Sweet dreams, darling.”
“Night, Luke,” she whispers, and then she hangs up.
I stare at my mobile for a few minutes, and then sigh, letting myself back in my bedroom, ready to guide the drunk woman down to the bar. I find Maxine sprawled on my bed. She’s asleep, snoring lightly. “Great,” I mutter, looking over my shoulder when I hear a squeal of delight coming up the stairs. Todd is dragging Cherry up, both of them half undressed. He clocks me on the threshold of my bedroom and grins before disappearing into one of the five spare rooms.
