Page 86 of Between Never and Forever
I’m relieved that I don’t hear hurt in her voice. Disappointment, yeah, but I didn’t hurt her feelings.
“I’m fine,” I say with a shake of my head. “Just tired.”
“Do you just want me to drive you?”
“No. I need the walk.”
I step back up to her and press a quick kiss to her cheek.
“Have a good night,” I tell her, then I turn and walk away with the bridge playing over and over in my head.
Did you ever pray for me?
Every day. Every day.
Did you ever pray for me?
Every fucking day.
20
“Fuck.”
I groan as I roll over in bed. My head pounds and my eyes burn.
I’ve never been much of a drinker. I’ll have a beer or two after work, or I’ll whip up an old fashioned at home sometimes, but I never mix the two.
Usually.
I close my eyes and think back on my evening. Beers at SandBar. Making out with Molly in the parking lot.LeavingMolly in the parking lot. Whiskey at home. Lots of whiskey. And a few too many internet searches.
I fell down a Sav Loveless and The Hometown Heartless rabbit hole. Video clips of shows. Official interviews with entertainment magazines. Tabloid articles and gossip blogs. I even read that interview with the Port Town Beanery barista. It’s more Savannah than I’ve had since I was eighteen. I honestly don’t know if it’s that or the hangover that has me feeling like I’ve been hit by a fucking bus.
At least I’m confident that there are no pictures of Brynn from the café circulating online. Just Savannah, looking gorgeous and stunned, and wearing that fucking engagement ring.
I force my heavy body off the bed and make my way to the bathroom. I brush my teeth and take a quick shower, trying to revive myself so I can get some shit done. We’ve been working a lot of Saturdays since the hurricane. There’s too much to do for a five-day work week, and I’ve got to head out to the River View neighborhood rebuild today. We’re running on schedule, and I want to make sure we stay that way.
When I walk into the office, Sharon and Brynn are already there. Sharon’s frowning at the computer, her glasses perched on her nose, and Brynn is sitting on the couch in the corner with a book.
“Morning,” I say, nodding to Sharon, then glancing at Brynn. “What’s the word, Boss?”
“Contretemps,” Brynn says without looking up from her book. “Noun. An inconvenient or embarrassing situation.”
I walk to the coffee pot and fill up my thermos, then turn and look at Sharon.
“The famous rockstar found herself in acontretempswhen she was mobbed by photographers and had to flee with the town grump and his intelligent daughter.”
I stare at her, unamused, and her laughter is joined by Brynn’s.
“A plus, Ms. Sharon!” Brynn calls out between giggles.
“How’d she look?” Sharon whispers. I fix my eyes on the floor and swallow back some hot coffee.
“Fine,” I lie. She looked good. Great, even. Fucking breathtaking. “She looked fine.”
“Did she say anything...?”
“Had me sign an NDA and called me a patronizing ass. ‘Bout it.”
