I look back towards Lincoln and lift a hand in his direction before letting it fall back to my side. "He loves you, Gabby. He's always loved you. I mean, at first I wasn't sorry about what I did, but it destroyed him, and I did… I did start to feel like shit. Because the truth is, I was jealous of you."
"Oh really," Gabby says dubiously.
My head bobs up and down emphatically. "Of course I was jealous of you. Look at you. I liked Lincoln a lot, and then I found out what you look like, and I'm like… damn, no wonder he's married to her. No way I'm ever going to measure up to a woman like you."
Gabby just stares at me, grilling me up and down.
"I'm sorry for everything I put you through and all the things I said to you. I know that's not going to make you trust me, but… it's a new year, and I don't want to enter the New Year being a bad person. I still care about Lincoln, I'm not going to lie to you about that, but I know that he cares about you, and because he cares about you, I'll try my best to be better with that."
"You don't need to be better with anything. I don't want you around me, and I don't want you around him."
Wow, the alcohol is definitely making her honest. What else can I get her to say?
Smiling, I nod. "I know. But I do want to try anyway. I want to make it up to you. Lincoln's been out of it at work, and I thought that, you know, maybe… I don't know, that you guys were having trouble again, but now I see that that's not the case. You guys have amazing chemistry, and he's probably just missing you a lot. I'm sure."
I want to slap myself so bad. Truth is, Lincoln is pulling away, and nothing I'm doing is working, and so the only way I'm going to get to be around Lincoln is if I'm around Gabby in some way, shape, or form.
Gabby gives me a smug smile and shrugs a shoulder confidently. "Yeah, he's been pretty pent up. That's why."
She giggles a little, heading towards one of the tables slowly to get another drink. I pour it for her.
"I figured you guys were being intimate. Right?" I ask.
"I mean, yeah. He wants to fuck me all the time."
"Anddoeshe?" I ask with a smile, as if I'm a best friend trying to share in the juicy details of Gabby's romantic life.
Another giggle escapes Gabby, clearly a result of the alcohol flowing through her; nature's very own truth serum.
On second thought, I get Gabby to drink more, pretending to drink as well, only to pour out my drink onto the grass when Gabby's not looking. It's a cliché thing that I've seen on TV, but it definitely works, and Gabby's too drunk to notice.
"There's a place nearby where we can get better drinks," I say to her.
She just stares at me with those glassy eyes.
"Let's find Lincoln." I tell her, and when we find him, he's talking with Tom, both of them being loud and boisterous.
Lincoln isn't usually like this, but he's definitely drunk.
"...so this absolute moron decides he's gonna fix the garage wiring with a fucking fork," Tom is saying, words slurring just enough to blur the edges. He claps Lincoln hard on the shoulder, nearly causing him to spill his drink. "Swear to God, thought the handle was insulated or something."
Lincoln chuckles, eyes shut like it’s really that funny. "A fork? Jesus. Dumb clearly runs in the family."
"Hey, don't pin that on me!" Tom protests, grinning. "That's all him, man. I wasn't even there when he decided to clap himself off the face of the Earth."
"Yeah, but it'syourbrother," Lincoln shoots back, still chuckling. "Kid looks up to you. Clearly you rubbed off."
Tom snorts. "Fine, but picture this: guy gets zapped, hair sticking straight up like he stuck his finger in a socket on purpose, pants literally smoking. And the first thing out of his mouth? 'It's fixed!' Like he's proud of it. Lucky he didn't kill himself."
Lincoln shakes his head, grinning wide. "You know, statistically, you're more likely to hurt yourself with a fork than a gun in this country. So I’d keep an eye on him."
“That’s his wife’s job, but between the two of them, I don’t know how that house hasn’t burned down. The damn dog is always clawing at the window to get out and shit-”
And with that, they dissolve into another round of belly laughs, the imagery probably being the culprit of what sent Lincoln into a fit of drunken laughter.
Men are weird.
I step between them, looping my arm through Lincoln’s before they can launch into another dumb-guy story.
