Page 60 of Returning Your Love
Or maybe she’d planned to be with her lover the whole time. That was probably who she’d been with whenever she’d spent the night in Berlin anyway.
I couldn’t rouse two fucks to give about that though.
Whatever his name, he’d made her happy, and I was still thankful she’d finally experienced the joy of seeing a positive pregnancy test after dozens of heart-wrenching disappointments. But now she would never hold that child. Kiss its chubby cheeks. Shower it with love like she’d always dreamed of doing.
Tears ran down my cheeks. I’d wanted that for the woman who used to be a good friend. We both could have moved on with that existence without turmoil. Divorced, her remarried and living the dream she’d always wanted. Me and the love of my life eventually becoming more than best friends. Everyone getting their happily ever after.
The grief over what could have been fucking sucked. Even intoxicated, I couldn’t escape my emotions.
Jamie sat behind me, his hand heavy on my shoulder, assuming I cried over the loss of my wife, but there was a shit ton more to my tears than her death.
I took comfort in my friend’s proximity, the warmth of his hand through my shirt a sturdy pressure, assurance of not being alone even though I could have sworn that was what I wanted before I’d started to drink hours earlier.
The ache in my chest intensified. Why couldn’t I just hide for the rest of my life where no one had to witness my weakness?
“Need to piss and go to bed.” I sniffled, attempting to stand up on wobbly legs so I could escape him.
Jamie clasped my arm and helped me to my feet. “Okay?” he asked when I swayed, wrestling with my zipper.
“Huh?” I asked, still drunk off my ass even though there was jack shit left in my stomach. “Fucking jeans—buttons broke,” I slurred, my eyelids fluttering shut. I stumbled sideways, felt myself falling, and he grabbed hold of me again to keep me upright.
Passing out would be great right about now.
“Jesus, Chaz. Lean on me.”
Unable to do anything else, I did as told.
Jamie made short work of my button and zipper. “You got this?”
I snorted, having no fucking clue what he’d even asked about.
Jamie fished my flaccid dick out, and I emptied my bladder when he told me to.
“You’re the best,” I mumbled when I realized I lay on my bed, my shoes tugged off by his large, capable hands.
Jamie didn’t respond but continued to strip me down to my boxers. “I’ll leave some water and Tylenol on the bed stand.”
I hummed my appreciation, my eyes refusing to stay open.
“I’ll be on the couch if you need me.”
“Don’t go,” I mumbled as drunken darkness tugged hard on my body and mind.
“I don’t plan on it.”
“Stay.” I tried again to tell him what I wanted.
“I said I would, Chaz,” Jamie muttered. “Just close your eyes and sleep.”
“Want you. Here.” I managed to pat the mattress next to me before sweet unconsciousness slid over me like a warm blanket on a cold night.
Chapter 21
Jamie
Istared at the ceiling into the early morning hours.
Being stone-cold sober and lying in bed beside my best friend who seemed incapable of returning my love anytime in the near future was absolute torture. Somehow, I’d managed a few moments of rest but woke before dawn, restless, grumpy, and horny as fuck.
