More wine went down Izzy’s throat. “Listen, I might not be that man’s biggest fan, but holy hell, I wish I’d been there to see the look on Bryce’s face. I bet it was the first time someone had talked to him like that.”
It probably was.
Usually when Bryce entered the room, people got quiet and paid attention. It’d been one of the things that’d drawn me to him all those years ago. It took me a while to realize it wasn’t the man but rather the bank account that’d demanded the attention.
It wasn’t like that with Tristan. He could stroll into a room without a cent to his name, and his presence would still fill up the space. It’s who he was: devastatingly charming, commanding, and oozing with confidence.
Probably why anything with a pulse threw themselves at him. A sour taste filled my mouth. Tristan had said he had plans with Rafe. Did those plans include going out and picking up women?
A sliver of jealousy slithered over my skin. I had no right to him. No right to envy whatever blond bombshell wound up warming his bed. No damn right at all.
“Soooo?” Izzy’s voice broke through my thoughts. “You don’t think things are moving a bit fast?”
Deciding it was time for another confession, I opened my mouth. The words wouldn’t come. “It’s moving at the right pace,” I said instead.
She’d discarded the wine bottle and held the phone closer to her face. “You’re sure? It was months before you introduced Bryce to Mom and Dad.” A protest sprang to the tip of my tongue, but her finger shot up. “And don’t think I’m buying that shit about you guys dating for however long you told our parents. I know how new this is.”
“Iz—”
“I get why you did it though,” she went on as if I hadn’t said a thing. “Mom and especially Dad would worry too much. And yes, I know you’re a big girl who can take care of herself... I just don’t want to see you get hurt.”
Again, I opened my mouth to speak, but this time a knock on the door stopped me. My gaze flicked to the clock mounted above the TV.
Eleven-thirty.
“Huh.”
Izzy’s face took up the entire screen. “What’s with the look?”
“I gotta go, Iz.” On cue the knocking turned to pounding. “There’s someone here. We’ll talk more, I promise. Love you.”
Disconnecting the call, I pressed nine-one-one. My finger hovered over the dial icon as I gingerly headed toward the foyer.
The knocking had stopped, but the shadow under the door hadn’t disappeared.
For a moment, I considered ignoring it and going to bed, but then, I thought of Millie. What if it was a burglar trying to see if someone was home? And what if by ignoring him, I gave him the all-clear to break in.
I couldn’t imagine how such an incident would affect her.
As silent and slow as I could, I rolled onto the balls of my feet to peek through the peephole.
My lungs deflated in one fell swoop. There was a man on the other side. Both hands braced on the frame, his head hanging miserably.
“What the?” I yanked the door open. “Tristan. What are you doing here?”
His head snapped up, and a goofy grin spread across his face. “There she is. My Kitty Kat.My wife.” Stumbling forward, he cradled my cheeks between his palms. “I missed you.”
There was no mistaking the way his words slurred or the waft of alcohol on his breath.
He’d been drinking. A lot by the looks of it.
“You’re drunk,” I told him.
A chuckle spilled over his lips as he pushed one hand into my hair and lifted the other. Pinching his thumb and forefinger together, he mumbled, “Jus a lil.” Those long fingers threaded through my strands and pulled tight. “Hmmm. So soft.”
Moving like a contortionist, I somehow managed to break free from his hold long enough to close the door. With a sigh, I dropped my head against the wood.
Clearly, he’d gone out drinking and, somehow, ended up here. Should I send him home? Should I let him sleep it off on my couch? I wasn’t sure. Maybe I should start off by getting him water and go from there.
