Page 74 of Whiskey & Honey

After work I came home and was relieved to see my mother had actually left as she said she would. There was the slight chance she’s have some sort of maternal reaction and want to stay for a few days. I don’t think I could stomach another one of her pep talks on my love life.

As soon as I was in my apartment I made a beeline for my room and changed into the only outfit I plan to wear in the foreseeable future – pajama pants and a T-shirt. Fine, it’s Ben’s T-shirt. The perfect ensemble for a recluse. I may have made a lot of changes in my life over the last few years but the ability to return to my reclusive ways is always easy. Wearing Ben’s shirt is just an added level of my self-destructive ways.

I have all of my wallowing and post-breakup necessities ready in just a few minutes. Food delivery menus, my favorite pop and ice cream, salty chips, movies that make me cry, and a box of tissues are assembled and placed on the coffee table.

My wallowing list doesn’t vary much from what I remember my mom having after a breakup. Instead of a few delivery options, pizza was our only option and my mom opted for wine instead of pop. The rest is pretty on point. I guess I’m no different than other women my age, I’m becoming my mother.

Over the last few hours I’ve experienced at least three of the five stages of grief. I managed to get through the biggies before my pizza was delivered and I poured my second glass of wine - denial, bargaining, and acceptance. I was in denial that Ben was actually at the deli with Laurel. Surely I had fallen asleep and it was a nightmare. That was followed by the acceptance that he had been there and I waited too long. The bargaining came around the time I put his T-shirt on and asked the heavens to let me go back to this morning and tell him how I feel.

I’ve consumed half a pizza and a bottle of wine since the bargaining went without a response. I can feel myself moving right on to stage four – anger. I’m pissed. How dare he? How dare he stand there this morning, looking sexy as all get-out, and be kind and understanding with where I am in my feelings? He knows me well enough to know I needed to unload on someone. Since my go-to person, Ashton, is out of the question, my mother was the next obvious choice.

Obvious choice if my mother were the nurturing, loving, and supportive type of mother, that is. Regardless, her words did hit a little close to home. Ben deserves someone who is his equal. Not the girl who is perfectly happy teaching kindergarten in her home town. I’m a creature of habit and not an outside the box kind of girl. He should be with someone who scales mountains. Or at the very least, has a passport.

A passport. Who really needs a passport? Not this girl, that’s for sure. I don’t need to leave this country to find adventure. The Grand Canyon is adventure. I’ll go there. How about that, oh-so-perfect Bentley Sullivan? Suck on that.

I may need to reconsider this second bottle of wine I’m opening. Nope, I’m doing it. I’ll regret it and that’s fine because I’m doing something outside of my norm. Stupid Bentley Sullivan and his text message saying he’s coming over. No, sir. I don’t think so.

I knew telling him to respect me was going to be the only way to keep him away. Questioning Ben’s integrity is a surefire way to get him to back down. God I love that about him. Nope. No love. Love is for suckers. I’m not going to be a sucker.

As I’m looking at the glass of wine I poured and arguing with the rational side of my brain that is telling me to dump it out and go to bed, my phone chimes a text message. I did tell him he could text in moderation. I’m sure he’s just telling me goodnight. Or to lock the door. Or that he’s back with Laurel and how happy they’ll be. Probably that last one.

Jerk.

I set my wine down and grab my phone with the intent to tell him to go jump in a lake when I notice the text isn’t from him.

Tony: Hey Piper. Are you up?

Great, just what I need. Little angel Piper on the left shoulder says not to be rude and answer him. Little devil Piper on the right shoulder says to answer him for a little revenge.

Me: Yep, what’s up?

Tony: I was wondering if we could meet for coffee I wanted to talk to you about something.

Me: I don’t think that’s a good idea.

What could he possibly have to say? He’s actually found two women who want to share him? I know he doesn’t have a disease, I confirmed that at the doctor within a week after our breakup.

Tony: I thought we were friends.

Wine is in charge tonight.

Me: Fine. When and where?

Tony: Tomorrow morning, the diner at 8?

Me: Better make it 10. See you then.

I really am a glutton for punishment. Maybe this is a good thing. Maybe, just maybe, one of the town gossips will see us and tell Ben I’ve moved on. Well, not moved on since nobody knows about us because I’m a scared child, but gossip could be good for a change. Then stupid Ben can feel crappy for a minute.

Those are my final thoughts as I fall asleep on the couch with every intention of not dreaming of Bentley James Sullivan. I fail miserably even in sleep mode.

Being at Rosa’s with Tony is not my idea of an ideal morning. However, a big plate of Rosa’s huevos rancheros is the perfect way to spend a morning after drinking an entire bottle of wine. Tony was waiting for me outside in the parking lot when I arrived. I’m in no condition for small talk. The wine has turned to acid in my stomach, so we just walk in without more than a good morning between us.

As always, it’s sensory overload in Rosa’s. The smells are delicious as usual, but this morning they are like a sledgehammer and the noise seems abnormally louder than usual. The saving grace is an open booth. I make a beeline for the booth and slither in, laying my head down on my hands in a napping position.

“Rough night, Piper?” Tony asks as he takes the seat across from me.

“Yes. Obviously, or I wouldn’t even be here. I had a momentarily lapse of control when the wine answered you.”

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