Wide-eyed, he nods, crying again. “Yes, please.”
With my thumbs, I gently brush the tears from his cheeks. “Then let me get you home and into bed before you get sick. How much did you have to drink, baby?”
“I…” His sweet brown eyes go unfocused as he struggles to think about it. “A loooot,” he answers in a sweet sing-song tone I know so well.
He’s definitely going to be hungover in the morning.
“Okay.” I close the door and round the SUV, getting behind the wheel. “Time to go home.”
* * * *
I hold his hand during the entire drive. I think he dozes off a couple of times, because his grip goes slack before he gives a small jerk, like he caught himself, squeezing my hand as he does. Once we arrive, I hurry around to the passenger side to help him out before he face-plants on the driveway.
He’s going to have one hell of a headache tomorrow.
Now I wish I’d taken the time to grab all my things before I left the hotel, but I was in a hurry and didn’t want to jinx our possible reunion.
He nearly trips and falls while getting out, so it’s a good thing I was there to catch him. He tips his head back, squinting as he stares up at me. “Des?”
I smile. “Yeah, baby?”
“Am I imagining this, or am Ireallydrunk?”
I get him up the front walk. “Youarereally drunk, but you’re not imaging this.” I’ve already got my keys out and use them to let us inside.
Jester comes running to greet us and we have to dodge him as he tries to wrap himself around our legs while we head for the stairs. “I told you I would be back, buddy,” I tell the cat as I help Tomas up to the bedroom. “Let me get Daddy into bed.” I darn near have to carry Tomas the last few steps but finally get him into the bedroom and safely sprawled across his bed.
He stares up at me with those sweet brown eyes of his. “You’re not a dream?”
“No, I’m not a dream, baby.” I brush a kiss across his lips and start to unbutton his shirt. “Let’s get you undressed so you can pass out.”
“Oookaaay.”
More guilt for me to deal with. Had I called him back sooner, he wouldn’t be facing one wicked hangover tomorrow.
There can be no doubt how much emotional pain he was in, based on the songs he was singing and how much alcohol he consumed. My guy isn’t much into public displays of his pain, so the fact that he was doing it at all guts me.
I guess I should have planned to see him first thing this morning and caught him early, before he left the house. Damn my mother for calling me, anyway. And double-damn my flat tire, which I still have to get fixed.
Except I can’t blame Mom for my crummy timing. A contributing factor to this whole mess in general? Yes.
But I’m an adult and should have stood up to her long before now instead of letting her emotionally manipulate me. Maybe it came from a place of love with her, I’d cut her more slack, but I’m not going to give up this man again.
Never.
She’s going to have to learn to deal with that.
Chapter Nine
Tomas
Even though I wake up, I keep my eyes tightly closed and don’t move for a moment. My head’s not just hurting—it feels like someone’s beating one of those large kettle drums just behind my eyeballs. I’m certain I’m going to throw up if I move too soon or too fast.
It’s obvious I drank waaaay too much last night.
That’ll teach me.
I crack one eye open a little, just enough to confirm that I am, in fact, in my own bed.
