Blake leaned forward and kissed my forehead. “There’s a library right down that hall—last door on your left. Why don’t you go sit down in there. I’ll do a quick round of goodbyes, and we’ll get out of here.”
I needed to get my head screwed on straight, so I thanked him and walked down the hall. Ten minutes later, Blake came into the library.
“Sorry that took so long,” he said. “You ready to go?”
I stood and attempted one last-ditch effort. “It’s really no trouble to take an Uber. Are you sure you wouldn’t rather stay than spend two hours in the car with someone who doesn’t feel well?”
Blake wrapped his arms around me and brought me to his chest. “Two hours with a sick you is better than an afternoon with all these clowns, anyway.” He kissed the top of my head.
God, why did he have to be so damn nice? As if I didn’t already feel like shit.
“Come on.” He released me and gestured toward the door. “Let’s get you out of here.”
I thought we’d gotten out of the party unscathed until Blake opened the front door for me. Donovan was standing outside on the porch by himself.
He looked at me, then Blake, then me again, without saying a word.
“What are you doing out here, Decker?” Blake pulled the door closed behind him. “You’re not trying to escape the party, are you?”
Donovan’s face remained impassive. “Nope. Just needed some fresh air.”
“Are you feeling sick? Autumn thinks something she ate might not have agreed with her. I hope the whole place doesn’t come down with food poisoning.”
Donovan looked straight at me. “Pretty sure it’s not food poisoning.”
“Good. Alright then, enjoy the party.” Completely oblivious, Blake put his hand on my back. “And Decker, this is a good opportunity for you today. So don’t do something stupid and screw it up.”
I shut my eyes. God, where was that advice half an hour ago? I felt Donovan’s eyes on me, but I didn’t want to make matters worse, so I kept my head down when I said goodbye and walked to the car, slumped in a walk of shame.
The ride home was long, and I spent it lost in my head. I answered when Blake asked me a direct question, but otherwise I didn’t talk much. Thankfully, both the physical symptoms I’d displayed and the mental distance could be blamed on not feeling well. When we pulled up to my apartment, Blake started to look for a place to park, but I really needed to be alone.
“I’m so sorry I caused you to leave the party early, but if you don’t mind, I’m not really up for company right now.”
“Oh. Yeah, of course. I get it. I like to be left alone when I don’t feel well, too.”
I forced a smile. “Thanks.”
“I’ll park and walk you to the door.”
I shook my head. “It’s fine. You don’t need to walk me.”
“You sure?”
I nodded.
“At least let me double park and open your door.”
“Okay.”
Blake walked around to my side and opened the passenger door. Extending a hand, he helped me from the car and kept my hand in his. “I’ll text you later to see how you’re feeling.”
I was pretty sure I’d still be feeling the same—like a giant piece of shit. Yet I smiled again. “Thank you.”
He leaned in for a kiss, and a wave of panic washed over me. Without thinking, I put my hand on his chest and stopped him. Blake’s face wrinkled.
“I…I don’t want to get you sick.”
He smiled. “I’ll risk it.”
I covered my mouth. “No…really.”
Blake gave me a conciliatory smile and lifted my hand to his mouth, brushing his lips over my knuckles. “Feel better. I’ll see you soon.”
CHAPTER 17
* * *
Donovan
I’m not going to call. The ball is in her court here. If she wants to keep seeing that assface, that’s fine with me. Nothing I can do about it.
I sucked back my third vodka tonic since I’d walked in the door not even an hour ago, grabbed the spray bottle off the kitchen counter, and proceeded to angry-water my plants as I ranted.
“It’s bullshit. There’s no fucking way she feels the same with Dickson.”
Spray. Spray.
“I just need to get laid. That’s all this shit is.”
Spray. Spray.
“I’m not calling her. Screw that. You know what? Screw her.”
Spray. Spray.
But then I remembered what she’d looked like in that bathroom—red cheeks, lips swollen, hair that looked like it had just been fisted—because it had, by me. Fucking gorgeous.
And then what she’d looked like as she walked out of the house—pale, nervous, as sickly as she pretended to be.
Maybe I should just check on her…
I looked over at my cell phone on the counter and shook my head.
“No. You’re not calling her. She’s fine.”
Spray. Spray.
But what if…
“No.” Spray. Spray. “Just no.”
Ten minutes later, my plants were drowning, so I figured I’d join them and poured another vodka tonic. I was more of a couple-of-beers guy, or a glass of wine with dinner, so liquor hit me like a ton of bricks.