Chapter Fourteen
Cormac
CalebandRemihadto get home to their families, but I lingered at the bar, having nowhere to be. It wasn’t long before Zara approached, taking the stool next to mine.
I spun my lukewarm beer between my palms. I’d been nursing it for a while. “Hey.”
“Hey yourself.” Her shoulder brushed mine as she settled onto her seat. She was wobbly and unbalanced, so it took her some time. “I was waiting for you to come say hi to me, but you never did.”
“You looked like you were having fun. I didn’t want to interrupt.”
“Pfft.” Her teeth dug into her bottom lip as she blew away my concern with a puff of vodka-scented air. “Why would you think I’d stop having fun if you came over? You could’ve joined in the fun, Maccie. You seem like you need to have fun.”
I chuckled, but it was only surface-level amusement. “You’re probably right.”
She leaned toward me again, her midnight eyes rounding dangerously. “You know, in all the years we knew each other, wenever once danced. I’ve only known Henrik a few weeks, and he danced with me all night.”
“I’m not sure if what you two were doing counts as dancing.”
“Ah!” She held up a finger. “You were watching us like a little creeper, but stayed away. Why’s that?”
Despite myself, I laughed. Drunk Zara was as cute as she was confrontational.
I’d only seen her drunk once, when her mom was sick and she stole a bottle of rum from her parents’ liquor cabinet. I’d stayed sober while she’d drunk herself numb. When I’d brought her home and carried her inside, her dad had been there. Waiting.
Amir’s glare pinned me right where I stood. “Did you drink?”
I shook my head. “Not a sip.”
“Did you touch her?”
“Never. I would never.”
He raised a hand. “I know. Had to ask anyway.”
“I know.”
His gaze softened as he looked her over, passed out and curled in my arms.
“Oh, baby girl,” he whispered, brushing her hair from her face. “You’re going to be okay.”
“She is,” I promised. “I think she just really needed to take a break.”
His jaw rippled, and he jerked a nod. “If it gets to be too much for her—for you—I need you to tell me. No matter what.”
It had never been too much, though. Not for me.
“We never had a chance to dance,” I said.
“No, I guess we didn’t. We should’ve made the chance. That was a real missed opportunity.” Her head fell heavy on my shoulder as she sighed. “I’m sorry for calling you a creeper. That wasn’t nice of me. I’m feeling a little mean tonight.”
“Directed at me?”
“Pretty much. A little at Jackson too. He never took me dancing either. Or even out to bars. He always went drinking with his brothers while I stayed home watching reruns. What kind of life is that, Maccie? I was twenty-three and twiddling my thumbs, waiting for my stupid husband to come home. Why’d I let that happen?”
This was the most I’d ever heard about her life with Jackson, and I wasn’t sure if I wanted her to keep talking or never hear her utter his name again.
“It sounds like you’re more than a little mad at him.”
