That’s what woke me up.
It was insistent, like the man on the other end was impatient, calling my name until I had no choice to answer. It was like he knew the hell I was in. Doubtless he did.
Guido.I groaned.
Poor Guido. Groveling was in my near future.
Moving was a cautious activity. Even my mind seemed to be hiding in the shadows of my stomach, which was not too safe at the moment. “Too. Much. Jameson,” I croaked as I answered the phone. The taste of it tainted my arid tongue. “Hello?”
“Scarlett.”
“Yes.”
“You drank whiskey.”
Oh, he caught that.
“Don’t mention the name. Please. The devil might come out again.”
Brando went silent, but I could hear him breathing on the other end of the line. He had the beast breath going on, nostrils probably flaring.
“Is—” He stopped and cleared his throat. “Is that why you did this? Sent me away? So you could go out and get so drunk that you had no idea who the fuck you were? Sow up wild oats or some bullshit like that?”
“You know exactly why I did this!” I said defensively. The tone of my own voice made me wince. “And I knew who I was!”
“You did?” he scoffed. “That’s not what you said on the phone last night.”
“We spoke?”News to me.
“Yeah. You told me that you had been liberated and you had no idea who you were anymore.”
“Did you realize I was under the influence of hard liquor?Andbeer?”
“No,” he snapped. “Guido told me you had one glass of beer—then had to admit to me this morning that he found out later that a bunch of sailors were slipping more than just beers past him.”
“What else did Guido tell you?” I glanced down at my reddened heels, slathered in greasy ointment, plastic wrap to keep the lubricating goo in place.
“That you made his night a fucking nightmare.”
“Oh.” Guido wasn’t even going to tread in those waters, not even with a careful backstroke. That one was all on me, as it should be. “Well, I’m surprised you even bothered to call. I’m a bit disappointed that it wasn’t your usual. I’m used to that now.”
He paused at my tone, but feeling as though he was the rightly aggrieved party here, went on without caution.
“I tried that. I couldn’t understand the fucking gibberish that was sent back. You aremywife!” He roared. “I—”
“Am I?”
Those two words, spoken in definite muse, stopped him cold. It wasn’t meant in the way he took it, but I got the feeling telling him that I had been liberated and had no idea who I was made him uneasy. It made him think of losing me, in more ways than one.
“Yes, you fuckingare,” he practically growled.
“I know that,” I said softly. “That’s not what I meant, Brando. I meant that you haven’t been acting likemyhusband lately. You’ve been—”
“I was up all night. I couldn’t stop thinking.” His voice came down, low and hoarse. I could tell that he had sat down. “About you.”
“Are you rubbing your heart?”
“Yeah,” he said, exhaling.
