He chuckles lighty next to me. “You should be thanking me.”
Dammit, I bite. “What do you mean?”
Kevin takes his beer from Pat and offers him thanks before taking a long swig of it. It’s taking every ounce of self control to not grab the draft and chuck it across the room just so he’ll answer me. “Alright, alright, chill man,” he says as soon as he sets his draft back on the bar top. “I take it you and Phoebe got in a fight if you’re sitting here this pissy. Am I right?”
I grunt out a non-committal response. I don’t really want to talk to him about Phoebe. I don’t want to talk to anyonebutPhoebe.
I refrain from swatting his hand away when he reaches over and plucks a fried mushroom off my plate.
Kevin smirks at me again before dipping the mushroom into my ranch, and I force myself to take a deep, calming breath before I do something I’ll regret. Like breaking his nose. I slide my plate over to him and take another long pull of my beer before motioning to Pat that I need another.
“I’ll take your silence as a yes then,” Kevin jokes. “I’m telling you right now, Spence. You better fix whatever you did wrong. A girl like Phoebe won’t come around twice in this lifetime, and I don’t want you to end up like me. Alone, and regretting not figuring out how to fix it sooner. Right?” He tips his beer in my direction, and I begrudgingly clink my draft with his.
I sigh, picking at the plate of food between us. “I don’t think I can fix this one,” I admit to him.
“Bullshit. Whatever it is, it’s fixable. Look at me? I dumped her in front of her entire family because I freaked out thinking that I couldn’t be saddled down with that kind of lifestyle.” I raise an eyebrow at him in confusion and he throws his hands up in frustration. “You know the life she wants. The big blue house with the perfect decorations. The husband who comes home on time every night and kisses her and the kids hello before sitting down for a home cooked meal. I won’t ever be that person, and that’s what she’ll always want.”
He flashes me a smile that doesn’t quite reach his dark eyes. “You could give her that life. All you need to do is pull that giant head out of your ass and make it happen. I’ve seen the way you look at her, and I know you care for her more than either of you let on. So whatever it is that’s getting in the way, you gotta find a way around it. Don’t lose her over something stupid.”
I want to argue with him, but what’s the point? He’s not entirely wrong, even if that situation isn’t as easy as just ‘fixing it’. Piper has to tell Phoebe everything on her own terms, and that’s not something I can just force her into. The fact that she’s already offered to tell Phoebe is a huge deal. I won’t mess that moment up for her just because I miss Phoebe not looking at me with disdain in her eyes.
For now, I’ll sit here, drinking my sorrows away with the most unlikely of allies. Bacon might not be such a bad guy, even if he dresses like a rich douchebag and keeps eating all the best looking onion rings on my plate.
“How are you so cool with giving advice to another man who wants the same woman as you?” I ask him, honestly wanting to know his answer.
He waves Pat over, and orders two Irish car bombs, before turning back to me. “Because, I love her enough to want her to be happy. She wasn’t happy with the lifestyle we lived together, I know that now. Seeing her at home, in her own element reminded me of the woman she was when we met. She was radiant and full of life. A few years under my thumb…it dulled that light in her,” he tells me as he picks at the label on his empty bottle. “You know that thing they say, about how some people just bring out the worst in each other? Well, Phoebe brought out the best in me, and I grabbed onto that feeling with no regard for how poorly I was treating her in return. I focused so hard on what I wanted, that I ended up turning her into a shell of the happy person she was when I met her. You brought the light back.”
Pat comes back with two more drafts of Guinness and two shots of Bailey’s mixed with whiskey. Kevin picks up his shot glass and hands me the other. “Bottoms up, Spence!” Then we both drop the shot glass into the Guinness and chug as quickly as we can before it curdles.
Not a bad way to nurse a self-induced broken heart, not a bad way at all.
The next day I make sure to show up at the Andrews’ house early like I promised. I’m immediately met with a hug from Mrs. Andrews, then steered to the dining room and given a plate of chocolate chip pancakes and the crispiest bacon I’ve ever had in my life. Kevin comes out of the kitchen moments later wearing a Santa apron and a Santa hat perched over his annoyingly tousled dark locks.
“Best bacon you’ve ever had right?” He wags his eyebrows at me, and I find myself not wanting to punch his lights out. Maybe that’s how friendships are made…three Irish car bombs and bonding over more fried food than we could eat.
I take another bite of the bacon, relishing in the maple after taste of it. “‘Tis pretty good, my dude,” I tell him after I chew. “But I wouldn’t expect anything less from you, Bacon.” I tip my head at him in thanks, and we eat the rest of our meal together. It’s a refreshing change of pace not hating the guy. I was a little worried that seeing him today might be awkward without all the liquor to wash away the angst between us, but everything seems okay this morning. I don’t know if I’d call him a friend, but I don’t hate having him around.
How could I hate someone who just wants Phoebe to be happy?
“You seen her yet?” Kevin asks over his cup of coffee. I shake my head no, and the overwhelming grip of fear grasps me by the throat. I haven’t seen her since she got out of the truck yesterday, and I’m nervous as hell to be in the same room as her today. “Well, if it makes you feel better, she seems to be in high spirits as of this morning. Why don’t you try to go talk to her? She’s in her room.” He stands up and takes my empty plate and disappears into the kitchen again.
“You’re a real weirdo, Bacon,” I shout out to him before I follow his advice and head up the stairs to find Phoebe.
I need to get my ugly sweater on anyway, so might as well rip this bandaid off quickly. I knock quietly on her door, at least I think it’s still her door. I’m not sure if the Andrews have moved around rooms since all the kids have now moved out.
When she opens the door, I’m momentarily stunned to see that she’s only wearing a pair of high waisted jeans and a fancy, lace purple bra.
I run my eyes up and down her body before I realize what a perv I must look like, and I avert my eyes quickly. “Umm, sorry…I was just uh…coming for my sweater,” I blurt out, sounding like the biggest idiot ever.
She giggles softly. “Come on, it’s not like you haven’t seen it before,” she teases playfully.
Wait. Is she not still angry at me? Hope blossoms in my chest, maybe Piper has talked to her already?
“Don’t worry, I’m still pissed at you,” Phoebe says over her shoulder. “But I could use your help getting this sweater over my hair.”
And just like that, the small boom of hope withers away.
I step into the room and close the door quietly behind me. When I turn, I see that much hasn’t changed in this room from the last time I saw it. Little E has a giant cat tree hanging out near the window, and there’s a few storage totes stacked in the corner. The rest though looks as though they didn’t dare touch a thing after Phoebe left five years ago. The walls are still that same deep shade of purple, and all of Phoebe’s awards and photos are lined around the white vanity mirror. Her bed comforter matches the curtains, which both have black cats printed all over them.
