AllFreeNovel
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Since I was a kid, I’d look at the stars and think I’d give my life for another moment with my father. I find myself doing the same with her. Wishing upon a fucking deaf star she was mine. Mine to have, mine to choose, mine to keep.
“I have no more honey in me, Dad! I’m nothing but fucking vinegar.”
She ran out after he proposed. She came to hide, to lick her wounds so she could hop on her perfect conveyor belt life right after. Perfect fucking Greg ticking one more box so they can fly off into the fucking sunset. In Paris! Fuck!
“What are you doing out here, Jimmy?” Andrew Palmer knocks twice on my car window. It takes me a second to realize where I am. Apparently, I drove to the bar. He raises his voice so I can hear him through the glass. “You comin’ in bud? That flashy car of yours can’t be comfortable to sit in for too long.”
I quickly go over my choices. All I know is I need a fucking drink – or seventeen. I have nowhere else to go in this goddamn town. I’ll have to book a hotel room for the night. Fuck. That is for drunk James to figure out later. Bar it is.
I step out of the car, cursing the fucking flakes that have begun falling again. The fact that I left without even grabbing a coat hits me with as much strength as the freezing wind. I briefly considered giving snow a reprieve. That ship has sailed and sunk.
I hug myself in a futile effort to retain some body heat. Andrew gives me a sideways once-over. He decides against questioning my lack of winter wear, choosing for casual chit-chat instead. “You here for the V-Day special?” No Palmer, I fucking certainly am not.
“Just for a drink.” He accepts my grunt of an answer and pulls the door open for me.
“Took you long enough, Andy,” his wife Milly complains but gives him a peck anyway, “I was coming to check on you. Did you get my phone from the car? Hello, James.” The way she talks has always made me think of a morse code machine. Rhythmic clicking, no pauses.
“Mrs. Palmer.” I dig my hands as far as they will go in my pockets. Looking around for more familiar faces. I see none. Thank fuck. The decorations that just yesterday seemed oddly fitting, are a fucking mockery today.
“Don’t be weird, James. Name’s Milly. You know me more than well enough to use my first name.”
“Shit, babe. Sorry, I got sidetracked. I walked out and saw James just sitting in his car,” Palmer explains. “I’ll go back and get it.” Milly flattens him with a look that clearly says ‘yeah, you bet your ass you will.’ She’s always been a feisty one. Andrew gives her a knowing grin before heading to the parking lot. The gust of wind he lets in makes me shiver.
“Okay, James. Why on God’s green earth are you out in the middle of a blizzard without a coat? Got a hankering for pneumonia?”
“Fuck, Mills, you sure have ‘stern mom’ down.” I wink at her in a weak effort to direct the conversation as far away from me as fucking possible.
“You know it. Drink?”
“Fuck, yes.”
“A beer here, please,” she calls out to the bartender.
“Double scotch, neat,” I correct. Beer wouldn’t even scratch the surface on the iceberg I’m trying to hide.
“That bad, huh?”
The door swivels open and in comes Andy, proudly brandishing a bright pink cellphone like it’s some sort of accomplishment. Milly chuckles at the sight, going to meet him at the door. I see her go up on her toes and whisper something in his ear. He nods in response. The complicity they share is plain to see. It fucking feels like somebody shoved their arm down my throat and squeezed. Fuck.
“Your drink,” the man behind the bar gets my attention.
“Thanks. Open up a tap for me.”
“I’m afraid to ask, Jimmy. Where’s Rose?” Andrew takes a seat on the barstool next to mine.
“Home, with her fiancé.” I blurt out the words, they feel like glass shards in my mouth. I down the contents of my tumbler in two gulps to soothe the pain that truth brings. I welcome the burn. It feels like I should be burning. A snort of realization escapes me. Here I am, nothing more than a fucking cliché in a bar, realizing that the last seven years of my ‘always single’ mentality were never a choice. It wasn’t action, it was a fucking reaction. A fucking coward’s way out.
“Another double,” I call out to the bartender without sparing him a look.
“Shit. That’s a tough break, man. I’m sorry.” I turn to look at him, his tone would be much more appropriate at a funeral than at a bar.
“What the fuck do you mean, Palmer?” His damn pity shocks me enough for me to do a credible job at acting offended. “Rose is my stepsister.” Fuck. Saying it out loud knowing that that’s all she will ever be has the shards sinking further down my throat.
“You must think we’re real dumb.” Andrew hits me with a knowing look. “It has always been plain to see that Rose is much more than your stepsister. You left like a bat out of hell last night, just because she was talking to some guy.”
Fuck. Friday I would’ve been able to deny it with a completely straight face and a clear conscience.
“Fucking gold star for you, Andy.” Shit. “Fuck… Sorry.” Palmer is a good guy, he doesn’t deserve me taking out my hurt on him. “Whatever my… misguided intentions were, it doesn’t change things one fucking bit. Rose has been making her perfect bed for years, there is absolutely no place in it for me.” There it is again – pity. I wash it down with another mouthful of the cold amber liquid.
