Page 40 of Mama Si's Paradise

Instead, he rubbed his face again, sighed and shook his head. “You’re making my problems seem really small right now, Autumn,” he mumbled, then went for the dresser near the left corner, where there were bottles of liquor and gorgeous crystal glasses waiting to be used. He grabbed a honey-colored liquid and poured me a glass, then brought it to me. “Let’s sit down, shall we?”

I looked down at what I assumed was whiskey, and the ice cubes moving around the fancy glass. I’d never had whiskey before. Something told me I was going to hate it, but I took a sip anyway.

Yep. I hated it. It tasted like bad feelings and sleepless nights.

I took another.

“Sit, Autumn.”

The guy had already sat in the same armchair, and he’d pulled another from around the table close to him. He was patting the velvet cushion now, calling for me.

I sat.

“Let’s start from the beginning. I’m Johnny. It’s good to meet you, Autumn,” he said. “Tell me more about your fucked up life so I can feel better about mine, will you?”

Maybe it was the sound of his voice—masculine, strong, confident. I’d never really spoken to a man his age, though he couldn’t be older than thirty-eight, maybe forty the most. But there was something about the look in his focused eyes. There was something about the way he took his jacket off, too, while I fidgeted in my seat, trying to find the best angle to sit without revealing too much of myself to him.

Then, he went and did the most wonderful thing—stood up, put his glass on the chair, and put his fucking jacket around my shoulders, covering me completely.

Something pierced the back of my eyes suddenly—the stupid tears again.

“Thank you,” I forced myself to say, feeling a million times more comfortable within a second.

“I’m all ears,” he said, taking his seat again.

And that was all it took. Somehow, that’s all he needed to do to convince me to talk about my life. Not a lot of it, not details, just the basics—that I was an orphan, that I was raised in a trailer home with my grandmother, that I grew up with Brandon and that he was my first and only boyfriend.

And now I was here because one morning I’d forgotten my wallet.

When I was done, Johnny was silent for a little while, playing with his drink, swirling the whiskey and the ice cubes around. They made such a soothing sound as they slammed against the glass.

“So, yeah,” I said when I was comfortable enough. “That’s pretty much why I was crying just now.”

“Makes sense, yeah,” he said with a short laugh. “I’ll be the first to say that that sucks, and nobody should have to go through a life like that. Nobody should grow up without loved ones, but” —he shook his finger at me—“believe me when I tell you that it’s better to raise your own self than to be surrounded by people who pretend they love you, then stab you in the back the first chance they get.”

“That does sound worse,” I decided.

Johnny raised his glass at me. “Cheers.”

“Who? What happened to you? How did you end up here?” I wondered, sure he wasn’t going to tell me.

He did.

“I’ve never done this before, but my friends insisted,” he said, then flinched. “No—my friendsforcedme to come. Put me on a chopper, told me we were going to Maine, then brought me here.” He looked up at me from under his lashes. “How lame is that?”

“Not lame at all. I like your friends,” I said, raising my glass. “Cheers to them.”

“I guess so,” he said and took another sip. “Since we’re sharing life stories now, apparently, I guess I had it coming. I don’t really go out much. I just work. No dinners or skiing or golfing or anything—Iwork.”

“Why?” I wondered because there was something in his eyes, something that made him looktormentedjust now. Like he’d seen horror in the face and he’d survived, but it had stayed with him to this day.

“Well, let’s see.” Putting his ankle over his knee, he got comfortable again and finished his drink completely. “I was engaged four years ago, about to be married to the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.” His eyes met mine. “She looked alot like you. Red hair. Green eyes. A smile to fucking kill for. And then she died.”

My heart fell all the way to my heels. “Fuck.” That was unexpected.

Johnny laughed, but it was bitter now. “Yeah,fuck’sabout right. Drunk driver slammed into her, took her off road. Killed her on the spot.”

I drank more whiskey. Oh, God, I couldn’t even imagine what he must have been feeling. “I’m sorry,” I barely spit out.

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