Page 7 of Might as Well

She shrugs. “Stranger danger and all.”

I laugh, closing the distance between us. “Then why spend time with me?”

“You’re handsome.” She waves a hand in dismissal of that fact. “What I was trying to say is maybe we can get to know one another. Sober.”

“Really?” I perk up at the thought of her not tossing me to the curb.

Violet nods and then winces, rubbing her forehead. “I should get going, though.”

“Everything okay?” It’s like a switch flipped and her mood darkens even more.

“Just have a terrible migraine all of a sudden.” Violet stands, but immediately sways. She reaches out for the table and misses. I grab her by the elbow to help steady her.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

She jumps as music begins to play; apparently there’s a live band here tonight. “I need to get out of here,” she mumbles.

Enough said. With my hold still on her elbow, I lead her out of the pub. We’re three steps out the door when Violet lunges to the left and vomits in the shrubs. Damn. This must be one hell of a migraine.

“C’mon,” I say softly once a few seconds have gone by without any more retching. There’s no way in hell she’s driving home. I don’t think she’s actually capable.

It’s not until she’s slumped over in my passenger seat that she seems to realize where she is.

“What are you doing?”

“Taking you home. What’s your address?”

“My car…”

“I’ll get it to your place,” I promise.

Violet hesitates for only a moment before giving me her address. We ride in silence until I reach a home on the outskirts of town. There’s a car already here and for a moment, I wonder whose it is. Violet doesn’t say anything about it, so I stow that topic away for another time. Violet doesn’t even put up a fight asI take her keys, lead her into the house, and follow her directions to her bedroom. She toes out of her shoes and crawls into her bed, face planting into the pillow. I’m already forgotten.

With her keys in hand, I leave the house as quietly as possible and call Cal. Once Collin got married, Cal seemed to need someone to hang out with and somehow, I became that person. People seem to think Cal can be an ass, but he’s not really. He can be mouthy, but that seems to be more of a show than anything else.

“What’s up, Z?” he answers.

“I need a ride. I texted you the address where you can pick me up.”

“Why do you need a ride?”

“Just come get me.”

He huffs but agrees. Fifteen minutes later, he pulls up and then we’re off to the pub.

“You gonna tell me what I’m doing here or what?”

“She showed up,” I say simply.

“Who?” As if a lightbulb goes off above his head, his jaw drops. “The chick from Vegas? Was that her house? Your car was there. I still don’t understand what we’re doing.”

I explain everything that’s happened and Cal whistles low.

“So what now?” he asks.

“No clue. Thanks for the ride.” I reach for the handle to get out.

“Just be careful, Z. Girls can be crazy bitches and you have no idea who you’re dealing with. You don’t even have a prenup. She could probably come after everything you’ve got.”

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