Page 19 of Sweet Valentine

“And what? His ex is so desperate for him that she sabotages his new relationship?” Mandy gives me the obviously look, and I shake my head. “That’s so stupid. That only happens in sappy romance novels and movies.”

“Well, maybe you’re in one and don’t know it.” I give her a look and throw a crumpled-up napkin at her face. She starts laughing, which in turn gets me to smile. But then she turns serious. “Have you talked to him?” I shake my head, and her head tilts the way it always does when she’s going to tell me to smarten up. “Val, honey. I know you’re upset right now, and you have every right to be. I also know you want nothing to do with him, but he deserves to speak his piece, don’t you think?”

Does he, though? I mean, I’ve been trying to get this man to talk to me about his past for the past month and he’s shut me down every time. He’s had every opportunity to tell me about his life and the complicated parts of it, and he didn’t.

“He shut me out. Let’s see how he likes it.” I say it with as much conviction as possible, but I know deep down that I’ll talk to him. If what happened with Chris taught me anything, it’s that I would rather talk out issues in the here and now and be done, than wonder what happened for months on end. I deserve that closure, if nothing else.

“Wanna stay at my place tonight?” Mandy asks as I finish the last of my drink with a grimace. “I know you have to work tomorrow…” I hold up my hand to stop her.

“I’m closed for the weekend.” She gives me a look, and I shrug. “I wanted a break, and I knew I wouldn’t be able to do anything tomorrow, seeing as I’ve been drinking since around two in the afternoon and it’s what? Eleven?”

“Try midnight, honey.” Fuck. Me. I need to get home. “So, my place?” Mandy repeats, but I shake my head. “I don’t want you to be alone right now,” she says, and the trepidation in her eyes tells me that she cares. She’s worried, and I get that.

“I need some time to think, and to drink myself into a coma.” I wink at her, but she doesn’t laugh. “All right, the drinking part is just a joke, but I do need time to think, and I can’t do that with you around.” I can see the hurt in her eyes, but she nods, giving me what I need. This is why she’s my best friend. She’ll question my decisions when she deems it necessary, but when it comes time, she will always trust my judgment, even when I’m a little impaired.

“Want me to drive you home?” I shake my head again. “Fine, let me at least call you a cab,” I concede and wonder what the hell tomorrow will bring.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

I don’t know how long I’ve been sitting on Val’s porch, but it’s dark, it’s cold, and I’m starting to feel my teeth chattering inside my mouth. I knew coming here was a long shot. To be honest, I thought she’d be home and just kick me to the curb the minute I pulled up. What I didn’t expect was to come here and find a dark and empty house. The longer I sit here and wait, the more worried I become. What if something happened to her? What if she’s hurt somewhere and no one knows where to find her? I can sense the panic starting to rise, so I take a few deep breaths and remind myself that this isn’t some horror movie where she’s lying dead in a ditch somewhere, and I’ll never have a chance to talk to her again. This is real life. I fucked up, big time. But that doesn’t mean I won’t get a chance to see her again.

Just as I’m about to take out my phone and call her for the tenth time today, headlights glare in my direction and point toward the house. The car stops at the curb, and I wait. She gets out of the cab and stumbles her way up the driveway, giggling as she holds on to the side of her car for balance. Is she drunk? She looks like it from where I’m standing.

“What are you doing here?” she slurs as she approaches the porch, slowly making her way to the stairs.

“Are you drunk?” I accuse and flinch at my tone, knowing this is not the time to judge her.

“Why would you care? Why don’t you go home to your fucking wife? I bet she’s not drunk. I bet she’s waiting for you with her perfect hair, perfect clothes, and perfect life.” She stumbles, holding on to the railing. The closer she gets, the more I can smell the whiskey on her breath, and I curse myself for being such an idiot. I should have talked to her sooner. I should have explained everything before it blew up in my face.

“Since when do you drink whiskey?” I mutter as she passes, but of course, she hears me and gets pissed. I don’t blame her. I should just walk away now before I say something else that’ll make her hate me more than she already does.

“Since you decided to lie to me for the last month And since when do you care what I do?” She stumbles again. This time, I catch her as she tumbles backward toward the stairs. “Let go of me!” she screams, and I make sure she’s steady before I let go. My eyes search the neighborhood, looking to see that no one is coming out to make sure I’m not a sex criminal. When no lights turn on, I simultaneously thank the Lord that I won’t have to deal with them and curse this town for not being more vigilant with their neighbors.

“I just want to talk. Sweetheart, please…” I’m begging…Noah Taylor is pleading. If I have to get on my knees, I’ll do it. If she wants me to be her slave for weeks, months, even years, I’ll do that, too. I just need her to stop looking at me like I’ve killed the only good part of her. I need to look into her eyes and not see the betrayal staring back at me.

I watch her as she stumbles by me, holding the railing of her porch for support. When she gets to the door and fumbles with her keys, I know this is my chance. “Val, let me help you.” My voice is soft as I approach her from behind. My chest meets her back as my arms encircle her, and I take the keys from her fingers. For a split second, she relaxes against me. Her entire body sags as if the weight she’s been bearing these last few hours finally melts away. I quickly take the keys, open the lock, and wait. I stand there, her hair tickling my nose, the scent of her enveloping my senses, making me desperate for her touch. Yet I back away, knowing now isn’t the time. She probably won’t remember this tomorrow, and as hard as it is to stay away from her right now, I won’t be that guy. I can’t be.

Just as I’m about to leave, she turns, glaring. The look rips through me, and my palm unconsciously moves to my chest, rubbing the ache that’s appeared. “I never want to see you again.” The words aren’t screamed in my face, they aren’t loud enough for the neighbors to hear. They’re hardly loud enough for me to hear. But I do. And they cut me into tiny pieces. Seeing the utter devastation in her gaze makes me wonder if I’ll ever get her back. Maybe Amy was right. Perhaps I’ve lost Val.

“Sweetheart, I’m going to stay out here until you let me explain. I need you to hear me out.” She rolls her eyes, and I attempt to hide the smile that tries to break free. That small gesture shows me that my Val is still in there. She’s not totally broken, and that gives me hope.

“Fine. Freeze to death for all I care.” She slams the door, and I watch through the front window as she heads for the kitchen, taking out the bottle of vodka from the freezer and taking a swig right then and there. I shudder at the thought of what I’ve done to her, that I’ve caused her to drink like this.

I look away, leaning back against the house and sit on the concrete porch beneath the front window. If she won’t let me in, that’s okay. I’ll stay out here until the end of time. Even if I lose a few limbs from the cold, it doesn’t matter. I just need to make sure she’s all right.

I don’t know how much time passes, but my eyes start to close, and I wonder if the seat cushions on her patio chairs would make a good bed. I don’t have a chance to test out the theory before I hear a loud crash from inside the house. Before I have a chance to talk myself out of it, I’m banging on the door, hoping to God she answers and lets me in.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

My body feels like it’s dying a slow, painful death. My head pounds as my eyes struggle to open. When they do, I curse the sun for being so cheery in the morning. My gaze searches my room, and I wonder how I ended up here. The last thing I remember is yelling at Noah, then slamming the door in his face and taking the vodka out of the freezer.

My body shudders at the thought of the alcohol, and before I can push it down, it all comes roaring up my throat. I run to the bathroom and empty the contents of my stomach. Fuck, I need to remind myself to stop when I drink this much—or at least not mix liquors. That’s always my downfall. You stick with one drink, and you’ll have one hell of a hangover, but you won’t be stuck over a toilet.

Rookie mistake.

Once I brush my teeth, wash my face, and put my matted hair up into a messy bun, I head back into my room where I see a glass of water and some aspirin on my nightstand. Did Mandy come over while I was passed out? I sit on the edge of my bed and take the aspirin, feeling the cold liquid pass down my throat. It’s not until I set the glass down on the wood that I look at my hands and gasp. There are small cuts all over them. I bring them closer to inspect the damage, wracking my brain to try and figure out how the hell it happened.

“You threw the vodka bottle across the room.” I scream at the sound of Noah’s voice as I press my hand to my chest.

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