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I’m probably about five glasses deep when we leave. Corbin walks me outside where Hugh is fetching the car. He holds me tight to him, glancing around. His own security detail is dispersed, and my heart beats faster. Ever since the shooting with Griffin and Scotty, I’ve been on edge in public.
I never knew how unaware I was of the criminal side of my family’s business. Didn’t understand the dangers that came with being associated with the Southies. Scotty getting shot was truly eye-opening for me, and I never want that to happen again. I don’t ever want to feel the threat of losing someone I care about again.
Corbin is the safe option. The enemies he has are politicians. They’re not cold-blooded killers out to hurt him.
Hugh pulls the car around, and Corbin tugs at the back door. He slides in after me, pressing a kiss to my temple. Once the door is closed and Hugh is driving away from the restaurant, he exhales. “I’m sorry about Becca.”
“I don’t mind an extra seat at the table,” I say. “I have four siblings. Six if you count their significant others. I’m used to company at the dinner table.”
“Hmm,” Corbin says, pressing his lips against my neck.
We’ve both had a bit too much to drink this evening, and I blame his friskiness on the lowered inhibitions that come with alcohol. His hand squeezes my thigh, riding up my skirt a bit.
“Can I come inside tonight?” he asks.
I freeze, not sure how to respond. Do I want that? Do I want him in my space, kissing me, touching me? I already know what it implies. Heat creeps to my cheeks. It’s been a long time since that itch was scratched. I never went out when I was in Seattle, and even before that I’d stupidly thought that maybe Scotty and I were getting to that point in our relationship where maybe I wouldn’t be friend zoned.
Probably two years with no sex. Meanwhile, here Corbin is, his hands all over me, his breath against my neck, and it’s clear he wants me. There’s nowhat ifor questions about it like there always was with Scotty. No mixed signals. Still, I can’t bring myself to say yes.
“I’m not feeling well,” I say, the wine catching up to me. My head is spinning and I don’t think I can make it in the car much longer. The motion is making me nauseous. I grab my head while Corbin continues to kiss my chest.
“Saoirse. Please? I want this relationship to be real, don’t you?”
“It is real, Corbin. We just went on a date.”
“We’re giving people a show. It’s been three months. If I’m proposing soon, I’d like to know that my future wife is attracted to me. That you’ll want me.”
Fuck, I know he is right. I know I need to try harder. But so does he. If he wants this to be real, then he should at least be able to know where and what I can eat. Sure, he sent me the menu for approval today. But I didn’t have the time to look at it. Can’t he just check himself and tell me where we’re going?
Corbin senses my hesitation. He pulls away, straightening his tie. There’s a crease between his brows from the scowl he’s sporting. “I don’t understand, Saoirse. I thought we were going slow because we wanted to work on the foundation of this relationship first. Are we really not going to have sex? Like … ever?”
I swallow, the lump in my throat suddenly too big to take in air. “We will,” I say with confidence, though I’m trying to convince myself.
“When?” He licks his lips, his eyes dropping to my chest, then back to make eye contact. “You’re a beautiful woman, Saoirse. And I …” He pauses, shaking his head. “I can go without sex. That doesn’t mean I want to.”
I nod, biting my lip. “I know, and I feel the same way. I just …” I sigh. “I really don’t feel good tonight, Corbin. I drank too much.”
“Miss Murphy?” Hugh cuts in, pulling into the driveway of my home. “We’re here.”
“Give us a minute, Hugh,” Corbin says in a clipped tone.
One that I don’t appreciate at all. Hugh may irritate me, he may make me uncomfortable sometimes, but I’m never rude to him. And I don’t expect Corbin to be either.
“Do not speak to him like that,” I say, shock resigning through my body.
“What?” Corbin asks, rearing back. He’s not used to me being rude.
“He is my security and did not have to drive us to dinner. Don’t be short with him because you’re frustrated with me.”
Corbin’s eyes widen, practically bulging from his head. I don’t wait for him to respond. Instead, I yank open the door and climb out of the car. Rounding the driveway, I come to a halt before I reach the walkway that leads to my porch.
There’s not an excuse for my rash behavior, but I am drunk and hungry and tired. So, while tomorrow I may apologize for being a brat, tonight I own it. Corbin can catch a cab, or he can sit on the porch, for all I care. I need a nice warm bubble bath and some Advil.
I approach the porch, my fuzzy brain focusing on anything but situational awareness. A figure blacked out from the shadows causes my heart to lurch forward. Someone is waiting for me, and I can’t take the additional stress right now.
The shadow is sitting on my doorstep, and it moves when it catches sight of me. I squeeze my eyes shut, standing firmly in place.
How did Hugh not notice whoever this person was when he pulled up? Did he really just let me get out of the car and hurry toward danger? Or is the wine playing tricks on me? Hopefully when I open my eyes, I’ll see nothing, then I’ll know I’m only going insane from stress.
