Page 141 of A Love Letter to Whiskey
My nostrils flared, fingers curling into fists.
“Marry me,” he murmured against her lips.
And then, she giggled, swatting him away playfully like nothing had changed.
It took everything I had to sit there and watch it, to force a breath, to swallow, to not jump out of my chair and land my fist right in Ethan’s nose for kissing my girl.
Because she was mine — whether he knew it or not.
“I’ll get this all set up,” B said, gesturing to the taco bags. “Whatcha working on?”
“Just going through inventory, figuring out next week’s plan so we can have some fun and not think about this election tonight at the party.”
“Amen!” Shayla yelled.
B tried to smile, but it was weak, and then she stepped closer to Ethan. “Do you have a second to talk? I… I need to tell you something.”
My heart stopped.
Fuck.
Thoughts raced through my mind faster than I could keep up with.
She regrets it. She’s going to tell him and beg for forgiveness. She doesn’t want me. It’s all over.
But then I frowned, because that didn’t make sense — not after last night. Not after everything.
Ethan grabbed her arms, concerned. “Is everything okay, babe?”
“Yeah, I’m fine,” she said. “I just, there’s just something we need to talk about.”
“Okay,” he said, and then he glanced back at Shayla. “Would it be okay if we talked later tonight? We’re really trying to get all this done before the party. I mean, that is, if you’re sure you’re okay and it can wait?”
I knew I should pretend to do something on my phone, or leave the room, or do anything other than sit there and stare at them, but I couldn’t move.
“Yeah, sure. Yeah, it can wait.” She smiled. “Go get back to it. I’ll make everyone a plate and then come help.”
“Thank you,” he whispered, kissing her cheek once more before jogging back over to take a seat on the floor next to Shayla. They bent their heads together, pointing at something on her screen and talking numbers.
And finally, B looked at me.
My jaw tightened, possessiveness and a love so deep I couldn’t fully reach it consuming me as I tried to read her expression. She was sad, that much I could garner. But there was something else there.
I couldn’t figure it out before she tore her gaze from mine.
And then I realized I didn’t give a fuck if Ethan found out this way — I had to know what was going on.
In the next breath, I was up out of my chair and standing behind her in the kitchen.
“What are you doing?”
She jumped a little, but didn’t turn to look at me as she retrieved a stack of plates from the cabinets.
“Making tacos. Want some?”
“Don’t play dumb, you’ve never been good at it.”
“Because you know me so well.”
“I do,” I said loudly, not caring who heard, and I grabbed her wrist before she could reach for the taco shell and keep pretending like she didn’t see me.
We both glanced up at Ethan and Shayla, but they were deep in their own conversation over the laptop.
“I do fucking know you,” I said again, lowering my voice this time. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“B,” I pleaded, but she tugged her wrist from my grip.
“Nothing. I’m fine.”
“You’re fine,” I deadpanned.
She sighed, piling the first shell with grilled chicken before dropping it to a plate and facing me.
She was absolute stone when she answered, “Yep. Are you going to help me with these or not? Because otherwise you’re kind of in the way right now.”
Okay, now I was past confused.
I was pissed.
And I wanted to know exactly what the hell she was doing.
I let out a sharp laugh. “That’s fine, I don’t mind being in the way. Seems to be my favorite place to be, actually.”
B glared at me.
“What’s gotten into you?” I asked, wondering where my soft surfer girl from the night before was now. “Did I do something?”
“Why would you think that?”
I scoffed, crossing my arms before I stepped into her space. “Oh, I don’t know, less than thirty hours ago you were forcing my hand between your thighs, and now you won’t even look at me? Yeah, maybe that.”
“Shhh!” she whisper-screamed, eyes wide as she glanced at Ethan before her glare found me again. “Stop. It was a mistake.”
Her words hit me like a slap to the face, and my neck snapped back with the force.
“A mistake,” I repeated.
“We were both vulnerable, it was a heavy moment. Shit happens.”
“Shit hap—”
I couldn’t even finish the sentence. Bile rose in my throat as I threw my hands up, raking them through my hair before clasping them to rest on my head.
This isn’t her.
This isn’t what she means.
I forced a calming breath, knowing this was a wall she was putting up, and I had to be careful trying to climb it, lest she add another ten feet to it before I got the chance to climb over the top of it.
