I lost it all.
I was on a mission to obliterate everything. That’s what sitting in an empty nursery in the most haunted house in Massachusetts did to a guy. It made him want to erase memories and kill brain cells.
“You should not be here. This is a terrible choice, and you should not be here,” Riley said from a few steps behind me. “Girls claim they want space, but they want you chasing them. Yeah, they want some time to cool off, but for the most part, they want to take a deep breath and see you right there—not here, but there, wherever she is—with chocolate and flowers and shit like that.”
I ignored him. I was exactly where I needed to be, and it was long overdue. He’d been bitching at me since I announced I was hitting the bars when we got back from the visit to Wellesley but I’d had enough of his mother hen routine. I couldn’t take a piss without him asking where I was going and offering to hold my dick, and of course he appointed himself as my chaperone tonight.
“Have you called her? Texted? Sent a carrier pigeon?”
Fuck space.
Fuck time.
Fuck room to breathe.
Fuck everything.
Heading toward my regular red velvet booth, I waved at Alibi’s manager and gestured for drinks. I was swallowing whatever she brought my way. “No. Why? She told me to fuck off, or something like that.”
Riley’s hand landed on my shoulder, stopped me in my tracks, and spun me around. That kid was built like a tight end. I wouldn’t put it past him to sack me, and part of me was hoping for it. I wanted to hit something, but more than that, I wanted something to hit me. I wanted to focus on a different form of pain.
“All right, grasshopper. Listen. Couples fight all the time. Like, constantly. Matt and Lauren spend more time debating things and making up than doing anything else, and trust me, I’ve witnessed all of it.”
He rolled his eyes and shuddered.
“But here’s the secret—it’s always your fault. Whatever it is, your fault. Even if she’s being an asshole, it’s your fault. Just apologize and do nice things, and it’s better.”
He shrugged as if it was that fucking simple.
“Call her. Apologize. Say something sweet, and you’ll have some good old-fashioned make-up sex all night.”
The manager appeared with a gin martini, and I sent her a wink. “You remembered,” I said. She shrugged as if she remembered everyone’s drink orders, and tossed her wavy blonde hair over her shoulder. “Good girl.”
As she turned to leave, I smacked her ass.
“No, no, no. That’s enough. We are leaving now,” Riley said. I knocked back the martini in one gulp. “You have lost your fucking mind, son.”
“Yeah, I have.” I crossed my arms over my chest and rocked back on my heels. “And I’m not interested in looking for it. What’s the point?”
Riley brought his fingers to his temples in obvious frustration. “The point,” he bit out, “is that you love Tiel, and you need to fix things with Tiel. You should not be here right now. You should not be inventing ways to self-destruct. Why is this so complicated for you to understand?”
I handed my glass to another blonde. I didn’t think she worked at Alibi, but she took it nonetheless. She must have spent everything on the breast implants because those grapefruits were busting out of her dress. She wasn’t a natural blonde, either.
I doubted there was anything real about her.
“Gin martini and some shots. Get yourself something, sugar tits, and put it on my tab.”
“Ignore him,” Riley said. He grabbed my bicep and towed me toward the door. “We’re going, and you’re not leaving the house until you get your shit together.”
“Would you just back the fuck off?”
I shook out of his hold and leaned against the wall inside one of the cells converted into a cozy drinking nook. This part of the jail once served as the drunk tank.
I deserved all of this misery. Every moment of every day of my miserable life should feel this horrible.
I was exactly where I belonged.
I glanced up, avoiding Riley’s steely gaze, and watched people pouring in and out of the bars and restaurants. This was one of the features I loved about The Liberty Hotel: the catwalk ringing each floor. This was where it felt most like a repurposed jail, where I could imagine guards patrolling the corridors.
