Page 164 of A Love Letter to Whiskey
But the bigger part of me buzzed to life at the invitation, at the thought of her knowing that — in that moment — I couldn’t use my words.
But I needed her all the same.
My heart beat on like a kick drum as I took the elevator up to her floor, and I slipped the card into the slot, a soft click before the light went green.
I opened the door, pushed inside, and found B standing in front of the bathroom mirror, her face freshly washed, a towel in her hands.
I dropped the key on the desk by the door, walking into the bathroom with her. She didn’t turn, just watched my eyes in the mirror, chest still like she wasn’t breathing at all.
The air crackled to life like the fire had last night, like it wasn’t air at all but thick, buzzing electricity.
At first, it wasn’t even that lust-filled need I felt for her. Burying myself inside her or making her moan my name wasn’t what went to the top of my mind.
I just… needed her. I needed my best friend. I needed to hold her and be held, to know someone understood, that someone knew how broken I was in that moment.
That someone wouldn’t leave me to figure it out on my own.
I slowly closed the space between us, reaching out and dragging my fingertips from her elbows up to her shoulders. She shivered a bit as I dragged them down next, tracing her hips before I held onto them tight.
My forehead dropped to her shoulder, and I winced against the pain that radiated through me with that touch. It hurt to hold her after all the ways we’d hurt each other. It hurt to know in another universe, I would be married to a spiteful woman, having lost my chance with B forever.
It hurt that I fell in love with someone who could hurt me so easily, without even considering, and that I was willing to give B up for her.
Because I thought it was the right thing to do.
Because I thought B didn’t want me the way I wanted her.
But she did. I knew, right then in that moment, that maybe for the first time in our lives, we were on the same page.
B dropped the towel, placing her hands over where mine held her waist. I squeezed her tighter then, wrapping her up, and I sighed at how she was so willing to bear the weight of my pain with me.
I held her that way for a long, meaningful moment.
And then, I gave in to the other need coursing through me.
Her scent filled my nose as I ran my lips along the slope of her shoulder, my eyes on hers in the mirror. I bit down gently at the apex, rewarded with an arch of her back and her hands reaching behind her. She wanted more of me, and so I obliged.
My hands slid under her dress, cupping her full ass as she moaned and let her head fall back against me. Gone were the warning bells and soft voices telling us to stop.
In that moment, it was just us.
No one else mattered.
We gave ourselves to each other that night, in every possible way. With every touch, every kiss, every thrust, we surrendered.
No more games. No more pretending. No more wasted time.
And the next morning, when the sunlight streamed in through the windows, we swore it out loud.
“Be with me,” I whispered against her lips.
And she nodded, knowing there was no other way.
Still, it had been her to point out the obvious, that I had some things to handle here before we could figure out what came next. I didn’t know if I’d move to Pittsburgh, if she’d move here, or if we’d live somewhere else entirely. I didn’t know if it would take a few days to sort through the mess with Angel, or a few months.
All I knew was that none of that mattered, because at the end of it all, I got to have B.
I asked her to wait for me, and she’d agreed. I just needed a little time to get everything together.
At least, that’s what I’d thought.
• • •
I blinked, staring at the paper Angel held between us, a victorious smile on her face.
And then, I lunged for her.
A roar ripped from my throat, and she flinched, but fortunately for her, my father was there, and he held me back from doing anything truly stupid.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?!”
Angel’s eyes filled with tears, and it made me even more angry. “Baby, I made a mistake. But it didn’t matter. It was one night. I don’t even know the guy’s name.”
“Like that makes it any better,” I spat.
She sighed. “It was a mistake, but it doesn’t have to cost us our future. The venue and all the vendors are willing to work with us. We can just pick a new date to do the wedding. We can—”
