A Lover's Lament

The smile on Dr. Perry’s face widens and something inside of me relaxes. “I’m proud of you, Katie, and I think it’s a great idea.”

“You do?”

“Absolutely. I think you’re ready. But maybe just start by reading his letter, and then if you still feel unsettled, you can contemplate speaking with him.”

“Sounds like a good idea.” I smile and rub my hands along the front of my thighs, then push up from the couch.

“Goodnight, Katie. I’ll see you next week.”

With a small wave, I turn toward the door when Dr. Perry calls out to me. “Oh, by the way, how are things going with your pen pal?”

“They’re going great.” Better than great, I think to myself as I leave Dr. Perry’s office, much lighter than ever before. And I know there is really only one person to thank for that—the same person who has somehow managed to hijack my head, considering I find myself thinking about him nearly twenty-four-seven.

“Goodnight, Kelly!” I wave at Dr. Perry’s secretary on my way out, tugging my phone from my pocket the second I slide into my car. Three missed calls pop up on my phone, and I roll my eyes at the sight of Wyatt’s name. He’s really backed off lately; in fact, I haven’t heard from him in several days. So why is he calling me again all of a sudden?

Just then, my phone vibrates in my hand, lighting up with Wyatt’s phone number. Curious as to why he’s rapid-fire calling me, I flip open my phone.

“Hello.”

“Katie, hey … I, uh … I didn’t expect you to answer.”

“I was with Dr. Perry. I’m just heading home. What’s up?” Transferring my phone to speaker, I start my car and pull out of the parking lot. I hear the faint sound of a woman giggling in the background. “Is everything okay?”

“Uh …” Wyatt grunts and then more giggling ensues. I cringe, wondering what in the hell is going on, and I’m seconds away from asking him just that when he says the last thing I expect to hear. “No, everything isn’t okay. I was calling because I have Bailey, and she’s”—Wyatt grunts—“shit, are you okay?” There’s another grunt followed by some rustling sounds, and now I’m wondering if Bailey really is okay and why in the hell Wyatt is with her.

“Wyatt? What do you mean you have Bailey?”

“She’s wasted,” he says, sighing. “She refuses to let me take her to your mom’s, and no way in hell am I bringing her to my place.”

“Bring her to me.” I can’t help but laugh. Bailey is a funny drunk, although I can’t help but wonder why she’s drunk at six o’clock in the evening. “I’ll be home in two minutes.”

“Thank God,” he says with an exaggerated groan. “We’re sitting in your driveway.”

“Almost there.” I disconnect the call as I turn onto my street. Sure

enough, Wyatt’s truck is parked in the driveway and he’s standing outside, leaning against his sleek black Chevy. Pulling in, I throw my car in park and start laughing hysterically at the sight of Bailey’s face squished against the glass of the passenger-side window.

Wyatt walks around the truck and opens the passenger door, sticking a hand out just in time to stop Bailey from toppling to the ground. Scooping her up, he tosses her over his shoulder and I shake my head, laughing.

“It’s not funny.”

“Oh, but it is.” Unlocking my front door, I hold it open for Wyatt and he walks in and places Bailey on the couch. I reach down to tug Bailey’s heels off, causing her to stir and roll onto her side. Her eyelids bob heavily several times and she swallows hard.

“Are you going to be sick?” I ask, pointing to the trashcan and motioning for Wyatt to bring it to me.

“He cheated on me.” Her words are slurred as she clumsily reaches up to wipe away some tears that have gathered in her eyes. My heart clenches, and I kneel down on the floor next to the couch to run a soothing hand along her forehead. No wonder she’s hammered this early in the evening.

“I’m sorry, sweetie.” Wyatt hands me the trashcan and I place it on the floor, just in case she feels the need to hurl later—which she most likely will. “He doesn’t deserve you, Bay. You’re too good for him.”

“But I wanted him.” Her eyes drift shut and when she sighs, the smell of her breath nearly knocks me on my ass. Okay, so her drug of choice tonight was tequila. Nice. That should be a lovely smell in the morning when I’m cleaning up whatever mess she makes.

“I know you wanted him, babe.” Brushing the hair out of her face, I lean down and kiss her forehead, glad that she’s too drunk to remember that she’s mad at me. “But sometimes what we want isn’t always what’s best for us.”

A faint snore falls from Bailey’s mouth, and I pull an afghan off the back of the couch and tuck it in around her. Standing up from the floor, I come face-to-face with Wyatt. “Thanks for bringing her by.”

“You don’t have to thank me.” Lifting the hat from his head, Wyatt runs his fingers through his hair before readjusting the Stetson. I always loved it when Wyatt wore his cowboy hat. It made me think of my Daddy. “She called and said she didn’t know who else to call.” Wyatt props a hip against the wall and cocks his head to the side. “Why didn’t she just call you?”

Great. Not exactly the conversation I want to have. Turning toward the kitchen, I wave for Wyatt to follow me so we don’t disturb Bailey. “Well,” I say, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge, “we aren’t exactly on speaking terms.”