Page 59 of Without You

“Julian.” I push past his personal space and grab his face with my hands. “Alcohol, remember?”

“Yeah.” He nods. “I remember.”

Pushing my hands off him, he steps back deeper into the alcove and takes one more pensive look at his surroundings. “I’m sorry, Deacon, but I really have to go.”

“Do you want me to help you get home?” I offer.

Shaking his head, he reaches for me. With his palm resting atop my heart, he leans forward and presses a kiss to the side of my mouth. “We’ll talk about it before you leave.”

Highly doubt that one.

He turns to walk away, and I’m completely floored by how much seeing the back of him tears me up. How could I be so stupid? We knew it was a bad idea. We both reiterated it. Yet, I wasn’t thinking about the aftermath. I wasn’t thinking about anything but him and that kiss.

There’s a line of drunk patrons just outside The Crooked Stool waiting for their ride. Julian joins them, standing on the end, playing around with his phone. Ignoring his request, I take large strides to reach him.

“I’m sorry, okay,” I say to the back of him.

His body stiffens before he eventually offers me a subtle nod. He refuses to turn around, and I feel that rejection deeper than I ever thought possible.

I step back and lose myself in the sea of people around us, watching him from afar, waiting with him, feeling like a certifiable stalker.

It doesn’t take long for him to climb into a car and drive off. I try not to focus on the dismissal and be understanding of the situation—it was naive to think either one of us would be unscathed from the get-go.

Once he’s out of sight, I take it as a cue to find my own way home. Standing in the line, I run on autopilot; ordering the car, jumping in, and getting home.

I’m surprised when I arrive at my parents’ place to see my father sitting on the porch, smoking a cigarette.

“Hey old man, what are you doing up?”

“Who the fuck are you calling old?”

Chuckling, I tip my chin up at him. “Can I bum a smoke?”

“One more reason for your mother to hate me,” he says sarcastically. “Sure, why not?”

He lobs the small rectangular box in my direction, followed by a lighter. Sitting down on the cold porch, I pluck a stick out of the packet, and slip it in between my lips.

I flick the lighter and lean into the flame for it to catch. I take a long, unhealthy drag, enjoying the lungful of nicotine I inhale.

Fuck, I forgot how good a cigarette was after a night of drinking.

“You alright?” my father interrupts, his brow raised at the cigarette in my hand.

“Yeah,” I lie. Looking away from him and back on to the empty road, I take in another drag. “Just one of those nights.”

* * *

The soundsof feet shuffling and whispers make their way to my ears, filtering through and disrupting me from my slumber. I concentrate on the noises, trying to discern whether they’re remnants of a dream or whether there is actually someone in my room.

When I feel a subtle dip in my bed, I turn my head to find my niece climbing up onto the bed, trying to balance herself and a bottle of milk, and Victoria, smiling and watching her.

“Well, this is a nice surprise,” I say hoarsely. “I know I didn’t message you back last night, but I wasn’t expecting a face-to-face reminder.” Pulling back the covers, I tuck Lia underneath my arm, adjust her bottle, and wrap us both like we’re in a cocoon. “Not that I’m complaining seeing this cheeky thing first thing in the morning.”

Victoria walks over to the end of my bed and sits on the edge of the mattress. “I had no plans to be here today, but mom reminded me she had food she needed to cook and I wasn’t about to say no.”

Remembering the conversation we had before we went out for dinner yesterday, I can totally understand why Vic chose not to argue.

“So, we’re just having a lazy Sunday here,” she continues.

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