“It already hurts.” He closed his eyes, and that was concerning for different reasons. If he appeared to be passed out in public, the NOPD would drag him out of the bar and toss him in the drunk tank.
“Connor,” she said, giving him a shake and stroking his hair again. “Let me take you home.”
“We…” he slurred, raising his head, eyes still closed, “should’ve had a home. And not in the fucking Irish Channel.”
Aha.So thatwaswhat was bothering him.
Connor rubbed his eyes and then opened them. “But I’m a fuck-up.Sooo…we don’t. And we never will.”
Liza slid her arm under his and used her shoulder to hold him up, shifting all of her weight against his. “Let’s not stress about that right now. Right now, we’re here, and we’ve had a great night, and you’re tired, so I’m going to take you back to your house.”
“Shoulda been our house.” He slid off the stool and managed to stand upright. “But I’m a fuck-up.”
“Come on, Connor.” She draped his arm over her shoulder and eased him to turn toward the door. “Let’s go get a cab.”
“I should just walk.”
“Well, you should walk to the door and get in a cab with me.”
He did.Slowly. Swaying more than Liza was comfortable with, but they made it outside, and she propped him up on the side of the building before pulling out her phone and requesting a ride. When the car pulled up, she held his shoulders, walking behind him to guide his steps and climb into the backseat.
By the time Liza fastened her seatbelt, Connor had dropped his face onto her shoulder and was breathing long and deep, which made her nervous. Fortunately, driving over to Algiers Point from the Quarter didn’t take that long, especially at this late hour.
The car pulled up to the curb, and Liza leaned forward to speak to the driver. “Can you wait for me while I get him inside? I live in the Irish Channel.”
“You bet, miss.”
Liza climbed out and crossed to the other side of the car, opening the door and giving Connor a shake to rouse him from his drunken slumber.
He climbed out with surprising ease and once on the grass, he gripped her waist. “Baby.” He swayed forward and backward before righting himself. “You’re too nice to me.”
“Come on, Connor.” She clasped his hands and urged him to walk. “Almost there.”
They had just reached the steps, and she watched his feet closely, prepared to guide him through what seemed like it might be a mammoth feat in his state, when someone cleared their throat loudly.
Liza snapped her head up to see Captain Deneau standing in the doorway, looking like a stone statue.
“Good evening, Captain,” she said pleasantly. She glanced at Connor, who showed no response or recognition that his father was there. “It’s nice to see you again.”
“Good evening, Liza,” Captain Deneau said, pleasant in a way that belied the expression on his face. He stepped out of the doorway and onto the porch. “Is he causing you trouble tonight?”
“Oh no,” she said casually. She patted Connor’s arm and he grumbled. “We just had a big celebration for one of our artists releasing their debut album tonight. I think he’s just tired.”
“You’ll have to forgive me if I’m mistaken.” The Captain raised his finger in the air and gave it a small shake at her. “But aren’t you the same young lady who came to stay with us a few years ago?”
Liza gulped. The visit during which she was as drunk as Connor currently was the entire time. She’d always known it was a terrible first impression to make on the people who were supposed to become her in-laws. “I am, yes. About ten years ago.”
“I was under the impression he ended your relationship shortly thereafter.”
She resisted the urge to sigh listlessly. “Yes, sir. He did. I’m just dropping him off. I wasn’t planning to stay with—”
“And I understand now you work for Mr. Hall?”
“Yes, sir. I’m his marketing director.”
The Captain took a step closer to her, his bushy salt-and-pepper eyebrows raised above the blue eyes that Connor had inherited from him. “You strike me as someone who’s grown into a very competent and successful person.”
Liza swallowed again and attempted to smile pleasantly. Connor dropped his head to hang below his shoulders. “I appreciate that. I’ve certainly worked hard to be.”
