Page 72 of Bastard Bartender

Oh fuck.

With my hand on my mouth, I rush toward the bathroom, realizing all that excitement building up inside of me wasn’t arousal at all. It was seven glasses of Malbec making their presence known.

I make it just in time to hurl into the toilet, making sure to be as quiet as possible because—oh my God—no man wants to hear a woman getting sick moments after he starts to undress.

“Evette, are you okay?” he asks from the other side of the door, and I cringe as I lose my dinner.

“Peachy,” I call out as I flush the toilet. I raise my head, but the tiles on the wall are spinning in a vertical motion. I lay my head down in an attempt to ground myself … or die of embarrassment. Really, either will do right now.

I hear the door open and immediately lift my head to make sure I’m not imagining the fact that Nic is walking into the bathroom while I’m on my knees, praying to the porcelain god.

“Get out of here! You can’t see my like this.”

He chuckles lightly. “I work in a bar. Seeing drunk girls is a norm for me.”

“Yeah, but they’re not ones you’re sleeping with. And you don’t actually watch them puke. You can just walk away and let them die in a puddle of their own vomit with their dignity intact.”

“That’s true. But lucky for you, I am sleeping with the drunk girl in front of me, and I happen to like her enough to not let her die with dignity.”

He takes a face cloth from the towel bar on the wall and wets it in the sink before wringing it out and folding it into a rectangle. He walks over, takes a seat on the edge of the tub, and places the cool washcloth on my neck.

It feels good.

When I puke again, the embarrassment is almost worse than the contents coming up.

His strong hand holds my hair and rubs my back with the other.

“This is humiliating,” I grumble.

“This is living.”

I flush the toilet again. I rest my head on my hands and look over at him. He has a crinkle to his eye as he moves the washcloth to my face and dabs at the skin under my eyes.

“I’m a wreck.” I drop my head to my chest.

He lifts it back to facing him. “You’re beautiful.”

“So are you.” I close an eye, trying to get my focus right. “All three of you.”

He finds this amusing. “What are you going to do with so many of me?”

“I can barely handle one. You can keep the other two.”

“I’m sure you could put us all to good use.”

I smile. “I’d let the others out into the world and lock the real you in my room forever. My own personal Nicolás Antonio Santiago to do with as I please.”

“You’re cute when you’re drunk.”

“You’re cute when I’m drunk.” I sigh as I feel my stomach settle. “You held my hair.”

“I did.”

“You’re sweet.”

“I am.”

“You make it easy for a girl to fall in love with you.” My eyes feel heavy, so I close them.

My body feels weightless, and I realize I’m being lifted into Nic’s arms. I throw mine around him and bury myself into the crook of his neck, inhaling that sweet scent I adore.

When I feel my pillow beneath my head, I curl up in the sheet and feel the blanket placed over me as Nic tucks me in. He starts to move away, but I grab his hand and pull him back.

“Where are you going?”

He pauses a moment and then grins. “Just taking off my shoes.” The bed dips as he takes a place beside me and lies down on top of the covers.

He opens his arm and pulls me toward him. I lay my head on his chest and relax.

“Good night, sweet Evette.”

He kisses the top of my head, and that’s all I remember before I fall to sleep.