“Didn’t hear from me…Gracie, I’ve been calling you for hours!” His panic recedes, replaced with anger.
“Well, it would’ve been rude for me to take personal calls at work,” I say sweetly, not giving him an inch.
There’s a beat. “Where are you, Gracie?”
Braxton sounds drained, and I don’t have it in me to hold on to the anger. Not when my head is spinning, and exhaustion flows through me. I feel like I’ve been balancing on the edge of a cliff for over a week, and now I’m just…done.
“Benson’s.”
“I’m coming to get you.”
“I’m with Bridget?—”
“I’ll give her a ride too.” There’s aclick,and the line goes dead.
I slowly lower the phone, blowing out a breath. Bridget’s watching me with interest, and I meet her stare, asking, “What?”
“You said you weren’t gonna talk to him drunk, so don’t.” She sounds pretty reasonable for someone who’s had the same amount of alcohol as I have. “Wait until tomorrow, when you’re sober. Don’t approach this in anger.”
My chin drops to my chest. “I don’t wanna approach it at all.”
There’s no time for any other kind of plan because Braxton’s there ten minutes later, his jaw tight as he steps through the door. He searches the room, his shoulders visibly loosening when he finds me, and he doesn’t look away as he approaches. Before he can say a word, Paisley is suddenly there, grabbing his arm.
“Braxton!”
He jerks in surprise. “Paisley? What’re you doinghere?” He flicks a look at me, and I can almost see the puzzle pieces slowly slotting into place behind his eyes. I smile, pretending absolutely nothing is amiss.
Bridget plants both her elbows on the table, resting her chin on her fist, looking like she’s watching a reality show play out in front of her.
“My friends changed their minds about catching up, so here I am,” she says, leaning heavily against him. She stares up at him with a wobbly smile, and Bridget and I share a disbelieving look. “I’m actually glad you’re here,” Paisley continues, not even sparing us a glance. “I need a ride home. I had a bit more—”she hiccups delicately behind her hand—“to drink than I planned.”
“Okay,” Braxton says slowly. “Let me call Nick.”
Paisley blinks. “Oh, you can take me, can’t you? I’m sure Gracie won’t mind.” She turns to look at me, a subtle challenge hiding in her brown eyes.
“No,” Braxton says shortly. “I’m taking Bridget home as well. It makes more sense that Nick comes to get you.” Not waiting for her to argue, he untangles himself from her hold and pulls his phone out. Frustration flashes across Paisley’s face, but when she remembers we’re watching, she gives one last smile and saunters back to her table.
“One of them is drinking soda,” Bridget whispers, tipping her head after Paisley. I turn and look over my shoulder, noticing the guy Bridget’s talking about. “I haven’t seen him drink anything else all night.”
“Paisley’s playing games,” I agree. “I don’t understand why. She left four years ago, and according to both of them, they never spoke while she was gone. What’s her game right now?”
“Girls like her do it just because they can,” Bridget mutters darkly. “But how sure are you that they never spoke? It’s pretty ballsy of her to go after him the minute she gets back to town.”
I open my mouth to tell her I’m sure, but doubt creeps back in as I remember how much he’s already lied about. Bridget’s face tightens with sympathy, but then Braxton is there, hooking a hand gently under my elbow and lifting me to my feet.
“C’mon, Rumpel. Nick is on his way, so we’re free to get out of here.”
I don’t know why the next words tumble from my mouth. “You sure you don’t want to stay? Make sure Paisley’s alright?”
He shakes his head. “She’s with her friends. She’ll be fine.” He looks down at Bridget. “You alright to walk?”
“I’m fine,” she grunts, heaving herself out of the chair. “I know how to handle my liquor. Comes with years of experience.”
I stare at her in bemusement. “You’re only five years older than me.”
“I know. I can count.”
“How about we discuss the way our bodies metabolize alcohol when you’re not inebriated?” Braxton suggests.
