My chest aches when she says the word “time.” The one thing I wish I could have had more of with Jamie.
“But…?” I prompt, sensing there’s more she wishes to say.
She lifts her shoulders in a weak imitation of a shrug. “But I can’t bring myself to tell Damian about it.”
“Why? Do you think I—he,” I quickly correct, “wouldn’t understand?”
A melancholy smile tugs at her rosy cheeks. “No, he would. Probably more than anyone else I know.” Her lips part on a shaky breath, and my own hitches as if all the oxygen has been sucked out of the room. “It kills me that he told me about his brother and I can’t find the courage to tell him about my mom, but I’m just so afraid that…if I do, it will be too much, and he’ll…” She trails off again.
“He’ll what?” I press, my pulse throbbing under my skin.
“Leave,” she gasps, choking on a quiet sob. “He’ll leave.”
The dim lighting overhead catches on the sheen in her eyes, and it’s like a gut punch seeing those tears and knowing they’re because of me. Because my shitty past behavior made her think the worst and only compounded what she already believed.
That she isn’t worth sticking around for.
But these feelings inside her aren’t just down to me; my actions only contributed to a much deeper issue.
“I’m not your dad, Lexi,” I say because I need her to hear it. I need her to know there are men who won’t flake like her father and ex-boyfriend did—likeIdid. Men who won’t abandon her. Ineed her to know that she is worth all the love in the world and more.
She lets out a husky, bitter laugh. “And that’s how I know you’re not real. I never told Damian about my dad, and he never calls me Lexi unless he has to.” She grins, but the expression lacks humor. “You’re so busted, Hallucination Damian.”
I smile back at her, even though my heart is breaking. “You got me.”
Looking down at the table, she leans forward again until her chin is once more propped on her folded arms, and for a horrible moment that seems to stretch on for hours, neither one of us says a word.
“Hey, it’s getting late,” I murmur when her lids start to droop. “You must be really tired.”
“A bit,” she concedes. “Maybe I’ll just rest my eyes.”
“Not here, Blondie,” I warn with a glance over my shoulder at the bartender. Luckily, he’s too busy talking to busty Barbie to notice that Blondie’s barely clinging to consciousness because he didn’t have the fucking sense to cut her off.
If Blondie hears me, she doesn’t acknowledge my words, and within seconds, those beautiful eyes slide shut.
Running a hand through my hair, I dig my phone out of my pocket and pull up the one number I never thought I’d use. The one Blondie put in my contacts just before we left for Guadalajara.
Me
Hey it’s Damian. I’m at Grape Expectations with Lexi and I don’t think she’s in any shape to go home
Can you come get her and have her stay with you tonight? Might look kinda sus if I try to leave with her and I don’t feel like getting arrested
That, and it’s better for her to wake up tomorrow somewhere familiar and safe.
I’m not sure how many minutes pass between Ronnie’s response and the cousins storming into the bar, but their appearance seems almost instantaneous. As soon as they walk in, I wave to them from that back corner booth, where I now sit next to Blondie to shield her from the bartender’s line of sight. When we lock eyes, Ronnie nearly bursts into flames, revealing her true Satanic form.
“What thehelldid you do to her?” she hisses once they reach the table, her eyes practically glowing red.
I hold up my hands in a placating gesture to plead my innocence. “She was already like this when I got here, I swear.”
Ronnie glances at her cousin, who shrugs. “I mean, that kinda tracks,” Andie says, and though I wonder what she means, I don’t press her for details. I can only assume this isn’t the first time Blondie has tried to drown her woes with gin.
Crossing her arms, Ronnie glowers at me. “Did she at least saywhyshe’s drinking alone on a Friday night like the protagonist in a sad indie movie?”
I peer over at Blondie, whose head is still down on her arms, her face partially obscured by her hair. “Her mom and aunt found out about our agreement. I don’t think she’s taking them knowing too well.”
“Shit,” Ronnie mutters. Then, coming to some internal decision, she sighs. “Okay. We’ll take it from here.”
