***
I skidded into the driveway, Ryan hot on my heels. I had driven through town like a police car was chasing me.
“What the fuck, dude?” Ryan jumped from the truck, following me into the shop.
“She was with fucking Chris.”
“Wait, what?” Ryan looked dumbfounded. “What do you mean with, she works with him, right?”
“Wrapped up under an umbrella laughing and being all intimate and shit.” I huffed out a breath and pulled a bottle of whiskey from the shelf. It was a bottle Ryan had given me for Christmas this past year, and it was for when I finally won it all and retired. Ryan watched me as I pull the red wax from the bottle and tipped it into the glasses that had been sitting beside it.
“Let's have some fun. No lady talk,” I insisted.
Ryan tipped his glass to me, and I agreed.
“To friends.” Ryan raised his glass and tapped it against mine. The bourbon burned as it went down my throat. I reached for the bottle and poured another. Ryan grabbed another bottle from the liquor stash I kept in the shop, and we eventually moved our drinking party into the house.
“To winning it all this year,” I said.
We once again clinked glasses and poured the shots back.
Within the hour, I was tripping over my furniture and laughing at Ryan as he danced around my living room. He was trying his best to keep my mind off Emmy, but as we emptied another bottle, my thoughts kept drifting to her.
“Holy shit, I'm drunk,” Ryan laughed. “I haven't been this drunk in years.”
“Why do they always cheat on me?” I said as I swayed where I stood.
“Who?”
“Women, all of them.” My vision was blurring in and out.
“She’s a good woman. I don't believe it.” Ryan tapped his head.
I felt my vision starting to darken around the edges.
“I need to go lay down.” I ran my hand along the wall as I walked up the stairs; it took me a good while to get to the top. Halfway up, I was climbing the stairs on my hands and knees. When I got there, I had to crawl to my bed.
“Why did you have to do this to me?” I growled and rubbed my chest as the pain seeped through me.
I was a fool.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Emerson
“Thanks for sharing your umbrella. I have no idea where mine is.”
“It's fine.” Chris’ arm snaked around me and pulled me in closer. I moved close to get under the umbrella. It made me a little uncomfortable to be so close to him, but wet was wet and dry was dry. He was joking around about the mean client we’d had a meeting with that morning.
“Shut up.” I laughed as he gave an impression of my scowl, the one he said I’d made yet again when she was complaining about something in the proposal.
“You've been wearing that thing for weeks.” He did it again, sticking his lip out.
“I'm a little stressed. I just have so much to do.” I frowned and then stopped.
“What? Why are we stopping?” he asked.
“There’s something in my eye,” I stated, blinking, trying to get it out.