AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I’d understood how he felt, but this was the first time he’d said the words. So natural, so normal, as if he’d said them a million times.
He loves me.
I didn’t say a thing. I didn’t trust myself. Maybe he did, but did it matter? I went to the window and hid behind the curtain as I looked out. I watched him drive away, carrying my heart.
Returning to the kitchen, I spied the almost-full bottle of tequila from the last time Vivienne and I had attempted margaritas.
Chapter 32
Liam
I had tried,and I'd failed. I couldn't even convince her to open the door and talk to me face to face. I hadn’t made a single bit of progress with her.
She'd said she’d faked the whole thing, and I’d fallen for it.
I didn’t believe that for a second.
I'd learned the hard way to never let myself get close to a woman, to keep myself safe. Losing Roberta had taught me that. I'd spent all the time since her death not letting a woman get into my heart, not going on dates, not sleeping over, staying safe. Until Amy.
Now Amy had taught me the lesson all over again.
How could I always pick the ones that would leave me?
I poured myself a third glass of scotch, and the bottle was now empty.
I grabbed my keys. A liquor store was only a short walk away. That I knew from experience.
* * *
Amy
“Wake up!”My sister shouted so loud it threatened to break the windows of my little apartment.
I rolled over in my bed and put my hands to my ears. “Keep it down. You don’t need to yell.” The little men with jackhammers were busy trying to break out of my head.
“I’ll stop yelling when you start making sense,” she said, still way too loudly.
I put my head under the pillow. “Go away.”
She did, and finally it was quiet.
I stumbled out of bed and found the Advil bottle in the drawer of my bathroom. My tongue had grown a fur coat. I grabbed three of the tablets and swallowed them with water from the sink. I climbed back in bed as Vivienne returned with a steaming mug.
“Here, drink this.” She shoved the coffee at me.
It tasted like tar. “What the hell is this?” I only had instant in the kitchen, and this didn’t taste anything like it. The little men with jackhammers liked it even less.
“Triple strength. Now drink it, or I’ll have to pour it on you.”
I debated for a moment if a coffee burn was really worse than drinking mud before I chose to drink her cup of shit. “You’re a terrible cook.”
“What the fuck?” she yelled, only slightly more quietly this time. She held up the tequila bottle I’d cozied up with last night. She flung open the curtains.
I closed my eyes against the searing light pouring in.
“This isn’t like you. You don’t guzzle hard liquor, especially on a weeknight.”
“Go away,” was all I could manage.
