“As much as you want to”—hell, get in line, Chloe, because I want to murder him too—“you can’t. I’d miss you too much if you did.”
“Fine. No plotting his murder, but does that mean I get more tequila?”
The bottle is already way lower than it should be in the time we’ve been here. Pulling out my phone, I see we’ve been here longer than I realized.
It’s then I notice the slew of missed calls and texts. From the guys to Duncan to my parents.
All of them can wait. Chloe is the only person that matters.
“Will you at least eat something if I say yes?”
Chloe grins at me, nodding. “Yes.”
“Good.” I wave the bartender over. “Anything on the menu we can order to eat?”
“I can do nachos or a hot pretzel with mustard. If you want food, there’s a taco stand down the street.”
“Pretzel, please,” Chloe tells him. “But what kind of mustard?”
He looks confused. “Dijon?”
“No mustard then. But maybe a side of cheese if you have it.”
He looks to me as if to confirm what she asked for and I nod. Don’t mess with a drunk bride.
“Got it.”
“Ugh. It’s probably because I like yellow mustard.”
Hiccup.
“What are you talking about?”
“Keep up, Dax.” Her words start slurring together. Chloe has never been one to hold her alcohol well. Throw in cheap tequila and she’s going to be feeling it in the morning. “I get yellow mustard on my ham sandwiches. That’s it. Maybe if I was a spicy mustard kind of girl, Duncan wouldn’t find me so boring.”
“I don’t think your mustard preference is the reason he finds you boring.”
“But what if I want to be a spicy mustard girl? I could be,” she says.
“Can you?”
“No.” She buries her face in her hands. “I don’t likespicy mustard. What’s wrong with good old-fashioned yellow mustard?”
All I can do is rub comforting circles on her back as the tears finally start.
“There is nothing wrong with yellow mustard. I happen to love yellow mustard.”
“You do?” She peeks one eye over at me.
I nod. “Yes. It’s my favorite kind.”
“You’re only saying that to make me feel worse.”
“Better, you mean?” I quirk a brow at her, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear.
“That’s what I said.”
A steaming pretzel and a cup of nacho cheese is set in front of us. I nod in thanks and push it closer to Chloe. “You need to eat.”
