“Wasmy mom,” I say, leaning in my seat and feeling the fatigue of the day, of my mother. Not that she’s ever mothered me. I took care of her more than she did me.
For example, she left me with the tab tonight.
I shake my head and knock back the fresh drink—a bubbly club soda. When it comes to my mother, someone has to be thinking straight. Is it too much to ask to spend one holiday with her? Like, we are a family.
I guess we would have had to be a family at some point to pretend now. Why did I even come to Vegas? Error in judgment on my part.
I push my glass away. That’s it. I’m not sticking around to eat crappy Chinese take-out on Thanksgiving while she nurses a hangover and tells me all the ways that I, and the entire male population, have wronged her. I’m going home to my apartment, with roommates I barely know. Anything is better than here.
I pull out my wallet and sift through the cards.Which one has enough money on it to pay for Mom’s pricey margarita?
Someone slips into the seat beside me, bumping me with their shoulder.
“Excuse you.” I whirl on the stranger, my irritation bubbling to the top. It’s not their fault I’m angry with my mom. But that also doesn’t mean I’m going to stop.
The stranger mutters an apology of some kind, his head still down. Something about his deep tone dances on a memory but all I can make out is the beard.
“You know, it’s courteous to leave a seat between yourself and a stranger,” I say.
He picks up his giant body and scoots down a seat without a word.
“Happy?” he asks, turning his head toward me.
My breath catches. “Trent?”
Recognition flashes across his face along with a few other emotions I’m not fast enough to name. “Karli,” he says, then turns back to the bar.
I scoot into the seat I just encouraged him to vacate. “No ‘hello? How are you?’”
He looks down at my stool, then his eyes slowly rise to mine. The corner of his lips curl up. “You know, it’s courteous to leave a seat between yourself and a stranger.” He takes the glass the bartender offers him and takes a sip. I don’t remember him ordering anything.
“Good thing we’re not strangers,” I say. “I did sleep in your bed.”
He coughs, spitting and sputtering his drink down his chin.
I grab a napkin and hold it up for him.
“Thanks,” he grunts. He cleans up the bar, then picks up the glass and downs the rest of it. “What else can go wrong tonight?” he asks, more to himself than me. I answer anyway.
“Really?” I turn on my stool so I can fully face him. “You think you’ve had it rough? My mom dragged me here and ditched me for a man I strongly suspect was using a fake ID. I might get a stepdad who’s still in high school.”
His cheek twitches, and he rubs his hand over his jaw to hide his amusement.
“See!” I point at his smile.
He turns, and I’m suddenly captivated by his blue eyes. I’ve always loved the contrast of dark hair and light eyes. I’m all dark, body and soul. “My brother drugged and kidnapped me.” His voice, his expression, his eyes; they’re all completely serious.
I can’t help it. I laugh. The sound rumbles up my chest like a breath of fresh air, and after this night, it feels good. Really good.
I’m sure he’s going to get mad and tell me to stop laughing, but he joins in with a small chuckle. I would assume it’s his first for the night as well.
“I don’t know whether that’s the most messed up thing I’ve ever heard or plain hilarious.”
He shakes his head. “It’s messed up. Sean brought me here for some show I don’t even like, and he’s making me miss Thanksgiving with my family.”
My cheeks pinch. I forget normal people have normal things to do for Thanksgiving. Like being with family.
I face forward, drumming my wallet on the bar. “Do you guys do something big for the holiday?”
