Page 44 of Beautiful Crazy

“Fucking fuck.” The wind whips my face as I trudge down the partially shoveled snowy sidewalk with my hands stuffed tightly in my pockets to stay warm. I don’t even know where I’m walking, nor do I care. My conversation with Emily escalated way too quickly and I knew if I stuck around, I would say something worse than I already did.

“Thanks for being the ultimate friend Em. Thanks for saving me from you.”

I regretted it the very second the words fell out of my mouth. It wouldn’t surprise me if Emily didn’t speak to me for a week after tonight. Hell, I’ll be lucky if our friendship is ever the same again. I shouldn’t have come on to her the way I did this morning. Now I’ve gone and fucked everything up and I really don’t know how to fix it. Is it the end of the world? No. Is it the end of our friendship? Certainly not. But it’ll feel different from here on out. There will always be the elephant between us, looming there for us to either try our best to deny and ignore, or remember every time we get close to one another.

I’ll always know in the back of my head my best friend wants full benefits; she wants my body…but she doesn’t want me. And it’s a weird revelation for me that I have no interest whatsoever in being physical with Emily without the emotional attachment that comes with it. That’s a hard pass for me, except she’s right. It’s been my way of life up until now. I’m the guy who sleeps with the girl maybe two or three times and then moves on to the next willing participant. I slept my way through college because I knew I was in my sexual prime and fuck if I wasn’t going to experience as much of it as I could.

I never once looked at Emily Chesney as an option because her brother made it clear she wasn’t allowed to be an option. I respected that because I respected him. Hearing her tell me tonight though, that she wished for me to notice her back then, and now realizing what she’s been watching me do for years…

I must look like the biggest loser to her.

Or some sort of monster.

Who can blame her for not wanting to be with me?

A few blocks away from the loft, I spot a dingey old hole in the wall bar that I’m not sure I’ve ever frequented before. There aren’t many people inside, so I find a quiet spot at the end of the bar and have a seat.

After stocking a few glasses back on the shelf, the bartender meanders over to me.

“What can I get ya?”

“Bourbon.”

“Coming right up.” I watch as he pulls down a bottle of 1792 and smile inwardly at the memories of drinking Bardstown’s oldest bourbon with Dad and my brothers. Even Asher was old enough the last time we were all together.

“To your good health, boys,” Dad says. “And to the journey of life.”

We all drink to Dad’s toast even though I’m sure the four of us are all having the same thought. We’ll never have this moment again. This could easily be the last time we’re all at Wood’s Tavern together. The last time Dad toasts anything to anyone. Every day that we’re together I wonder if it’ll be our last.

“Listen guys, I know you don’t want to hear your old man speak as if he’s dyin’ and I get that. I’ll respect it, but I just want to say one thing.”

All four of us eye one another and then wait for Dad to continue. “Your mother and I have always lived our life playing by the rules, you know? Church every Sunday, money in the collection pot, didn’t skip school, didn’t kiss on the first date. Hell, we even waited until we were married to have sex.”

Asher pretends to vomit but my eyebrows shoot up because I find that so unbelievable knowing my dad. He was always affectionate with Mom as we grew up and I’m pretty damn sure I even heard them going at it a few times when I was in high school. I assumed Dad was a bit of a horn ball. I assumed that because I also figured I had gotten that trait from him.

“You did?”

He nods. “Sure did. But I made damn sure we were married right quick. Proposed after a month of dating her and we were married three months later.”

Beckham chuckles. “You married Mom just so you could sleep with her?”

“Are you kiddin’? No way. I was head over fuckin’ heels for your mom. I knew from the moment I saw her. But I followed the rules, and I married her first. It’s just what you did back then.”

Graham taps his glass lightly. “So, are you saying you have regrets?” Graham’s been depressed ever since his girlfriend up and left without a word. His question doesn’t surprise me. I’m sure in some way he’s full of regrets.

“Not one, Graham.” Dad shakes his head. “Not one…but, if I had to do things over again…” A wry smirk crosses his face, and he winks. “I think I would break a few rules.”

Asher playfully smacks the table. “So, you’re saying we don’t have to go to church every Sunday anymore? Thank God for that.”

Dad laughs. “I’m pretty sure none of my boys are going to hell any time soon, and lightning isn’t going to strike you if you miss a week here or there. As long as you’re all being the kind of men your mother and I have raised you to be, you’ll be fine. Just don’t be afraid to break the rules once in a while, alright? Live a little. Don’t take life too seriously.”

Before I even know what I’m doing, I snap a picture of the bourbon in my hand and text it to my brothers.

Me:To Dad. The non-rule breaker.

Beckham texts a picture of what’s in his hand and it’s the same as mine.

Beckham:Great Minds.

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