She nods. “The only thing I worried about was the next time I was going to see you. Back then, it was such a huge worry, but now when I think about it, it’s such a simple worry that didn’t make life so hard. Now we worry about work, kids, bills, andblah, blah, blah.” I put my foot on the pedal and continue driving down the street.
How long has she felt this way? Or is she just drunk? Drunk people are usually more honest…
I pull up to his house. I hate saying this is B’s house. Because one dayourhouse will be her house.
I jump out of the car, hurry around to the passenger side, and wrap my arm around her as she slides out of my truck. She wobbles her way up her porch steps and takes a seat on a bench she has out on the porch. “Come sit with me.” She pats the seat next to her. She rests her head against my shoulder the moment I take a seat next to her. “We really have come a long way.” She pauses. “Youhave come a long way.”
“We both have.”
"Yeah, we have. For a while there, I was worried about you, but look at you now. You built a whole ass company from the ground up all by yourself. Something you’ve wanted since I met you.”
“Where is this coming from?” I know she’s been proud of me from the small comments I’ve made, but she’s never said it like this.
“I’m proud of you, Kai. I know I don’t tell you enough, so I’m telling you now.”
“Is this drunk you talking?”
“Well, drunk me has the courage to tell you how I feel.”
I lift my arm and wrap it around her shoulder. She snuggles more into my chest. Is she not worried about Liam coming home and seeing us like this? She must not be. Neither am I.
“Why can’t you talk to me when you’re not drunk?” I ask.
“I don’t want you to get the wrong impression.” Her words slur.
“Wrong impression of what?” I press, trying to understand what she’s saying.
“That I like you,” she whispers.
“You like me?” I ask, confused.
“No. That’s not what I mean,” she quickly blurts.
“Then what do you mean?”
“Like you, like you. I don’t want you to think I want to get back together with you.”
My chest constricts with those words. I swallow the lump in my throat. “So, you would never give us another chance?” I ask, trying to hold it together.
"Oh, I would have. I didn’t think you wanted to anymore since you haven’t tried in a while, and I didn’t want it to come off as if I wanted to if you didn’t.”
My head spins, trying to put together what she’s saying. Every word she has said is pulling me in different directions. I want to ask more questions, but I can hear the slur in her words. She’s had a lot to drink. I’d prefer this conversation to happen when she’s sober. Part of me wonders if what she’s saying is how she truly feels. Is the alcohol causing her to be honest with me after all this time? They say alcohol makes the truth come out, but all I feel is confusion.
“Let’s get you inside,” I say, helping her up.
She struggles to grab the keys out of her purse, so I ask, “Do you want me to get them?”
She nods.
I pull the keys out and unlock her door. We take a couple of steps inside, and she says, “Leave me on the couch.”
“I can take you to your room.”
"No, no, the couch is fine.”
I feel bad leaving her on the couch, but I’m also a little relieved I don’t have to see the fucking bed she shares with someone else.
Carefully, I guide her over to the couch. As I’m laying her down, I lose my balance and stumble. I catch myself just before I fall onto her. Our faces are so close that our lips are inches apart. The warmth of her breath mingles perfectly with mine. Her eyes meet mine in a questionable gaze of lust. She reaches up and runs her palm against my cheek. I tilt my head into her palm, feeling the warmth of her hand. I’m desperately longing to feel her lips against mine again.
