Bailee was right. Easton was the best thing to ever happen to me.
Me:Love you too.
I didn’t see Jared the rest of the night. After he walked off, I’d chugged my drink and then Bailee and I went back to the bar for another round. That round turned into another and then another and then…
Well, I wasn’t sure how many rounds we had. I couldn’t remember anything but dancing. I didn’t even remember how we got back to Bailee’s apartment. When I woke the next morning, my ass against Bailee’s, my head was pounding.
I missed Easton. I missed the fact that he would take care of me in my hungover state. But he was in NYC, and I was in Boston wondering how I was going to manage the drive home.
My phone buzzed, and I grabbed it off the floor next to my jeans. Apparently, I hadn’t managed to put on my pajamas because I was only in my bra and panties. It looked as though I’d stripped off my clothes and slid into bed probably not even washing the makeup off my face first.
When I finally managed to focus on the screen of my phone, I noticed I had a text from Easton.
Easton:Are you alive?
I rolled on my back and texted him.
Me:Yes, but I feel like I’m on my deathbed.
Easton:LOL. You had fun I take it?
I smiled.
Me:I think. It’s a little fuzzy.
Easton:Did you just wake up?
Me:Yeah, but I want to sleep until this feeling is gone.
Easton:Have some bacon and pancakes. You’ll feel better.
I turned and look toward Bailee. She was still passed out.
Me:No one is here to make them for me.
Easton:I take it Bai is just as fucked up as you?
I looked at the time, and it was a little after eleven. The last time I remembered being this fucked up was my thirtieth birthday. I groaned.
Me:I’m not sure. She’s still passed out.
Easton:I think you can manage. Text me when you leave, and don’t forget we’re having dinner at my parents.
Shit, I had completely forgotten about our weekly dinner at the Crawford’s. Every week we had dinner with them, but given everything plus the state of my pounding head, I’d forgotten tonight was the night.
Rolling out of bed, I went into the bathroom and searched Bailee’s medicine cabinet for anything to make my head stop yelling at me. Afterward, I stepped out and slid on my PJs before heading to the kitchen to start the next thing that would get me through the day: coffee. I grabbed a bottle of water, took the aspirin I’d found, and then started the oven to pre-heat for the bacon.
Once I was down putting all the bacon on the cookie sheet and the oven was pre-heated, I slid the tray in and set the timer. My headache was starting to dissipate, and I was hopeful that the grease from the bacon and the caffeine from the coffee would make me feel a hell of a lot better. I poured two cups of the java and then went to wake my baby sister up. As I walked closer to her bedroom, a sense came over me like déjà vu. It had been years since I’d had to wake her up.
Stopping in the threshold of the door, I stared at her. I missed her tremendously, and even though she was closer now, I didn’t want to leave. I wanted to pack up her minimal belongings and move her in with me. Not knowing if I had cancer was scaring the shit out of me, and I didn’t want to go a day without seeing her. But that wasn’t reality. There was no way I’d leave Easton, not even for my sister. We were both adults now, and this was a part of life.
“Why are you staring at me?”
I blinked, not realizing Bailee had woken up. I shook my head to clear it. “I wasn’t staring at you,” I lied. “I was coming back from making you coffee.”
She sat up in bed, reaching for the cup. “I don’t think coffee is going to cure the way I feel no matter how fucking good it is.”
I chuckled as I sat next to her. “That’s why I’m making bacon.”