Submitting in Vegas (Vegas Morellis 3)

I lean forward and catch my straw between my lips, sucking up a long sip of alcohol. “Anyway, I couldn’t get it out of my head. I should have also prefaced this by saying that my father did die of cancer when I was 11.”

Grimacing, Rafe says, “Aw, shit, I didn’t know that. I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, so, it just brought all that back. All the memories, you know. It was horrible. Seeing his body break down, watching him as he lost his ability to do things—it was just bad. And so I started to imagine it happening to her. Having to go through all that again. At least I’m a grown-up this time, I guess, but I started thinking about how I would have to move back home and take care of her.”

I look up to see how he responds, and he nods his head, like that makes sense. “Right.”

“But the thing is…” I pause, take another sip of my alcohol, and look at him again. “The thing is, I wasn’t sure if I was willing. Not because I didn’t want to relive all that. I didn’t, but I just… I didn’t want to leave here. I didn’t want to leave Vegas.”

Understanding dawns. I don’t have to say I didn’t want to leave him; he gets it. Sighing, he slides off his stool and pulls me off mine, then pulls me into his arms. “Christ, Virginia.”

I don’t get to hug him much anymore, so I take advantage and soak him up this time. I secure my arms around him and hold on tight, breathing in the incredible scent of him. I stumble through memories until I’m back in my bed with him, and that’s why I can smell him so close.

“And the thing is, I’m not delusional,” I go on. “Back then I was even less sure I had a future here, so it’s not like I thought I would gain some great thing by staying. I knew I would never have—have things I might want, and I was still so invested, I found myself wanting to stay here with what I had more than I wanted to go back and help my own mom. What kind of person does that make me?”

“No, none of that,” he murmurs, brushing his lips against my hair. “You’re a good person. I know bad people, and you’re not that. You didn’t want to give up your little slice of happiness, that’s all. I’m sorry it’s such a small slice. You deserve more.”

Tears blur my vision and I hug him tighter. I miss him so much. Getting drunk with the guy you can’t get over is a terrible idea. “I didn’t need more. I was happy with what I had.”

“And I fucked it up.” I’m not even sure that part is for me, he’s just reviewing the facts. He did fuck it up. I let him fuck it up, though. I should have said no. I knew the cost. I knew it would be hard.

Someone clears their throat and I pull back, blinking away my tears. Rex is standing there in a white T-shirt and jeans with his black leather jacket over it.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to interrupt, but I figured you probably didn’t want me to hotwire the car. I need her keys.”

“Damn, that was fast,” I murmur, grabbing my purse and digging around for my keys.

“I was nearby,” he explains. “You okay?”

I nod my head, pulling my keys out and handing them to him. “Thanks, Rex.”

Rex leaves as fast as he came, but now that he has burst my Rafe bubble, I feel awkward about being the crying drunk girl.

“Sorry about that,” I tell Rafe. “Alcohol makes me emotional.”

His lips curve up faintly, but he doesn’t look amused. “And here I wasn’t supposed to make you cry anymore.”

“You didn’t make me cry,” I assure him. “The sour gummy watermelon slices made me cry. Maybe the pool of alcohol they’re soaking in. Definitely not you. I just feel bad about being an emotional mess. How are we ever supposed to hang out as friends if I end the night like this?”

“It’s one time,” Rafe says generously. “And I don’t know about you, but I’ve had a great time hanging out tonight. I still am. There’s nothing wrong with feeling things, Virginia. You don’t have to be flawlessly composed and unfeeling. I would hate that. I don’t like seeing you sad, but numb is worse. I love your heart. I wouldn’t change a thing about tonight, so don’t stress about it.”

My shoulders sag and I take a big gulp of my drink. “You make it so hard not to kiss you. Why can’t you just be a jerk?”

“I am a jerk,” he says wryly.

“You’re perfect,” I disagree.

“Do they sell your drunk goggles in bulk packages? I want to buy a bunch to pass out at family events.”

I grin, biting down on my straw. “It was fun seeing you with your family.”

“You’ll be seeing plenty more at the party.”

“Skylar’s going to love it.” I use my straw to stir my drink. “Laurel was telling me all about the party, and it sounds like a big to-do.”

“A very big to-do.”

“I thought since it’s a mermaid theme, they would have asked to do it at your house. Because of the pool, plus you have such an enormous yard to decorate,” I offer.