Page 77 of Beautiful Life
“You gonna be able to get up and go see Tina?”
I remember what today is. “Oh, I’m the worst sister ever. Who goes to visit their sister in drug treatment hung over? What have I done?”
“You’re fine.” He nuzzles my ear. “Get up, I’ll make you some eggs and toast. You’ll feel better after a shower and food. I’m pretty sure you won’t even need an IV. But before you go, we’re gonna talk.”
“Talk?” I remember every detail of last night. I was drunk but not that disjointed. I know exactly what he wants to talk about. I keep mumbling into my pillow. “I might not have time to talk. I don’t want to be late for my visit with Tina.”
“You won’t be late. Get up and shower. I’ll start your eggs,” he kisses me under my ear while giving my bottom a squeeze and exits the bed.
Finny barks one more time. I reach out to scratch under his ear and his whole body shakes with excitement. “We’ll walk you later, okay?”
As if he knows what I said, he starts dancing in circles with glee in anticipation of later. I hear Tony whistle and he stops but his head swings to the door. Upon hearing the second whistle, he bounds for the exit and I lose sight of him but hear him lose his traction, crashing into the wall as soon as he hits wood floors.
Trying not to smile from Finny being too cute for words because I don’t want to antagonize my jackhammer, I slowly pull myself from the bed. I grab Tony’s shirt from last night off the floor and make my way to the bathroom.
Oh, shit.
There’s a reason people don’t crimp their hair anymore and that reason is the morning after. Crimping your hair should be illegal in all fifty states and Canada. My hair has never looked scarier not to mention my morning after Madonna makeup. I shudder at the thought of Tony having drunk sex with me looking like this, never mind snuggling with me this morning. I suddenly feel sorry for him and think he really must love me to not blink an eye with me looking like this.
I turn to the shower groaning as I vow to retire my Madonna outfit and pray crimping your hair never comes back in fashion.
*****
“Wipe that smile off your face, Tony. It’s not funny.”
“Sweetheart, it is.”
“It’s not,” I repeat as I push my eggs around my plate before dropping my fork, deciding to stick with toast and coffee. “I can barely eat anything, I feel awful. But I’m pretty sure I’m going to need a cheeseburger and a ton of fries later. Or maybe some fried chicken.”
“I bet you will. I’ll take you through a drive through, get you whatever you want.”
I can’t decide if I’m hungry or going to be sick, so I ignore his smile and sip my coffee.
“Come here,” he says, losing the grin.
“What?” I take a bite of toast, thinking it tastes good and bad at the same time.
Tony doesn’t wait for me to come to him. He gets off his bar stool where he’s sitting next to mine, comes as close as he can, and turns me in my seat to face him. He brings one hand up to cup my jaw and the other threads through my damp hair tilting my head back to look up at him. His eyes sweep my face and I wonder if I’ll ever get used to how that feels—like he’s memorizing me.
“Yes or no answer,” I hear him say and look up at him.
“What?”
“We’ll make this easy. I want a yes or a no, but I want to hear it from you sober.”
I pull my brows together in question.
“You gave me you last night?”
“Tone—”
I feel his hands flex and he repeats firmly, “Yes or no.”
I inhale. “Yes.”
“You love me?”
I feel my throat clog up and my tears pool.
