“Wow,”Lucy said, her nose wrinkling as she stood over me where I was sprawled on my sofa. “This is super pathetic.”
“Bloody hell, Mayweather,” Lottie called from the kitchen as she walked in my direction, picking up beer cans as she went. “You’re sinking pretty low right now. How long is it since you showered?”
“Doesn’t matter if I shower,” I mumbled. “It’s just me here. It’s always going to be just me.”
After going to her office and being turned away, I’d tried the whole walking her home tactic that Ollie had employed with Lottie—it seemed to get him somewhere, so why not me?
But the difference was that Vicky’s walk home was all of two steps from her car to her house, not really long enough to convince her to forgive me and that I loved her, especially when she completed those two steps at a run, and most of the time she was wearing noise-cancelling headphones.
Since then, I’d gone into a downward spiral, spending most of the time either working, drinking whisky, or hugging the pillow that just about still smelled of her hair.
That’s how my sister and Lottie had found me on the second Sunday of my self-absorbed pity party.
“Oh my God,the drama,” Lucy said, and I frowned up at her from my position on the sofa. “Get off your arse, Mikey.”
“I’m heartbroken,” I slurred.
“You’re drunk,” said Lottie, her nose wrinkling, no doubt at the stale fug of spirits in the air. She was starting to look a little green, and that really made me feel guilty.
Lottie’s mum had been an alcoholic, and I knew the smell made Lottie feel sick.
“Sorry, Lots,” I croaked, and then my vision filled with my sister, who was squatting down in front of me.
“Get up and have a shower,” she said in a clipped tone, so unlike Lucy that I found it hard to believe it was my sister speaking. Lottie tried grabbing away my pillow, but I wouldn’t let it go. It was like some sort of security blanket now.
“Why are you being so mean to me?” I mumbled.
“Fraggle Rock,” Lottie said, “I really thought Ollie was exaggerating, but you, my friend,area massive wussbag.”
“My heart hurts,” I told them both, and Lucy sighed.
“Mikey, you need to sober up if you’re going to get Vicky back.”
“She told me to go away, repeatedly.”
“And you’re just giving up?” Lottie said in complete disbelief. “Your grovel game needs some serious work, my friend. Haven’t you ever heard of the grand gesture? Something to prove that she means the world to you.”
I blinked at that, my drunk brain trying to process what she was saying. I started to sit up but then just collapsed back onto the sofa with a huff.
“I was never good enough for her anyway,” I answered eventually, my voice despondent.
“Agreed,” my sister put in, and I frowned at her. “But guess what? Vicky loves you.”
“She could have anyone she wants.”
“But she wants you.”
“I broke her trust.”
“Then fix it!” Lucy yelled in frustration, “Gah! You’re ridiculous!”
A sharp pain jolted through my leg.
“You kicked me!” I cried out in disbelief.
My previously sweet and non-violent sister actually kicked me in the shin.
The last time she’d been physically violent was when I stole one of her millions of notebooks when she was eight, but then, I’d been able to hold her back effortlessly with my hand to her forehead as her little fists whirled at me.
