Whiskey Moon

He massages his hand along his jaw. “A lot of smiling for one night.”

I get it. He’s an introvert. Socializing is mentally exhausting and his tank is running on empty. Sometimes I wish I had that problem, but as a classic extrovert, being around people is my lifeblood. It gives me energy. It feeds my soul. I used to love how we balanced each other out like that. My grandma Lynette used to say that every couple needed a chatty half and a quiet half. Two “chatties” would drive each other crazy. Two “quiets” would draw into themselves too much. She always said we had the perfect balance.

“You going home now?” I drag my fingertip down the buttons of his chambray shirt.

“Yeah.”

“Want company?” I ask.

He turns his focus to me, his blue-green eyes narrowing. “Not tonight, Blaire.”

“I don’t understand … I thought we were having a good time?”

“We can’t keep doing this.” He places his hand over mine, gently removing it from his stomach and letting it fall. “I want to be with you, Blaire. Believe me, I do. But it’s just not in the cards for us. And yes, I know I keep saying that and then I keep taking you home with me anyway, but every time I’m around you, I get just as caught up as you and I can’t say no. I tell myself it’s the last time I’ll kiss you and it’s the last time I’ll get lost in those eyes …”

I bite my lip to keep the quivering at bay, and I avert my watering gaze to the asphalt parking lot.

“I love that you still love me,” he continues. “And I love that you remembered our pact, that you said you’d marry me anyway even though we both know damn well I don’t deserve you. But you have to move on.”

I glance up at him, but only for a second.

The burn in my chest is so deep, I can’t breathe.

“I love you, Blaire,” he says. “I love you too much to marry you, so you have to quit hoping. And I know that it doesn’t make sense, but someday it will. Someday everything will come together and you’ll understand. And maybe one day you might even be able to forgive me. But for now, it’s just better that you go your way and I go mine.”

Tears flood my vision before dripping down my cheeks faster than I can catch them.

I’ve heard enough.

I slide my heels off, throw them in my backseat, and climb into my car.

Driving off, I don’t look back.

As soon as I get home, I book a one-way flight to JFK for Tuesday night.

32

Wyatt

* * *

“So … you just going to be a damn vegetable all day or are you actually going to move off this couch for once.” Cash flicks my hat off my face, hovering over me like the pesky kid brother he is. “Ran into your friend this morning in town.”

I yank my hat from the floor and place it over my eyes again.

“Your friend, Blaire,” he over-enunciates.

I don’t react … I can’t.

“We had an interesting chat,” Cash says.

I don’t ask because it doesn’t matter.

“Mama’s worried about you,” he adds, crouching down. “Ever since Blaire’s been back in town, you’ve been acting all kinds of strange. One minute you’re brooding around, the next minute you’re smiling to yourself for no damn reason at all. And today you haven’t moved an inch, and I know you’re not hungover because I’d smell it on you from a mile away.”

Cash steals my hat again. I swipe at him, but he’s too fast.

Staring at the ceiling, dead-eyed, I don’t have the energy to so much as blink.

“So tell me,” he says, “How’d you mess it up with her this time?”

“Not sure it’s any of your concern.”

“It is when I have to see your ass every day and put up with your moods.”

“Only reason you have to see me every day is because you’re twenty-six and you’ve never left home.” My words are harsh, and I regret them the instant they leave my mouth. The only reason he hasn’t left home yet is because he’s saving up to buy a place for him and his boy. That and he’s poured most of his savings into Petty Cash, trying to grow his business into more than just a weekend side gig.

“Fuck you,” he says. “You’re such a sad sack, Wyatt. And you never used to be. I used to look up to you. Hell, I wanted to be you. But not anymore. You changed. You’re not the man you used to be. I don’t know who the hell you are anymore.”

“Tell me something I don’t know.”

Without warning, Cash slams his fists against the coffee table. “God damn it, will you pull your head out of your ass for once in your life?”