by Chelle Bliss
Saying that you love someone and planning out a lifetime are two entirely different things. I knew he was fabulous. I’d be crazy if I didn’t want to be his wife. Why would this amazing man, who was filled with love, sexy as hell, and doing well for himself, want a girl like me? I wasn’t anything special. I wasn’t a runway model, I didn’t have money in the bank, and I sure as fuck didn’t have an education. I didn’t see much upside to me.
What the hell did he see?
Chapter 15
“I don’t know, James.” I looked up, seeing Izzy coming into the room. “Hey. How’s it going out there?”
“Fantastic. Just needed another bottle of wine.”
“Don’t get drunk before dinner.” I sounded a bit like my pop, but I didn’t want to have them pass out on us before we ate. Wine was the worst shit to get drunk on—the hangover was nasty.
“Okay, Dad. You boys worry about you, and Angel and I will talk about you and drink. Shush it.” She grabbed the spare bottle of wine on the counter and the corkscrew and stuck her tongue out before disappearing.
“I don’t know how you put up with her sometimes. You must have the patience of a saint.” I laughed, knowing exactly how mouthy and outspoken my sister could be.
“I have my ways, Thomas. Don’t ever doubt that.”
“Fuck. I don’t want to know.”
“Back to business. I put in a few calls, and I think it’s our best option. Neither of us wants to go back into law enforcement. We’re both unemployed and have more skills than half of the local sheriff’s department. I think it’s a killer idea.”
“So, we’re going to be private investigators?”
“We can be our own bosses. Hire some employees to handle the shit like computer work and phones. I think it’s the best fucking idea. You have a better one?” James asked, pushing the half-empty glass of wine away.
I thought about it for a moment. I’d spent the last couple of days wondering what I’d do now that I didn’t have to go back to work for the DEA. Working at Inked, the family tattoo shop, didn’t hold an interest for me. I wasn’t artistic and found it to be too boring. And I didn’t want to sit around inside all day.
“I don’t have a better one. So, we’re going to be partners?” I asked, leaning back in my chair and running my hand through my hair.
“Yeah. We have to get an office and business cards and come up with a great name. There’s not much competition in the area. The ones I’ve found are jokes with no real training. We can even reach out to local law enforcement and see if they’d let us follow up on some cold cases. Think about it, man. There’s no one more qualified than we are around here for this kind of work.”
“I’ll talk to my lawyer this week and see what we need to do to first. I want this shit on the up-and-up.”
“Partners?” he asked, holding out his hand.
Sliding my palm in his, I replied, “Partners,” before shaking his hand and sealing the deal.
“Let’s get together next week after you talk with your lawyer and iron out all the details.”
Although I knew it could be cumbersome to start a new business—I’d been a part of Inked when it had begun—I knew it wasn’t too difficult. Especially an operation with few employees and very few supplies. We could have it off the ground in a matter of weeks.
We sat for about fifteen minutes, bullshitting and talking about the DEA. Everything seemed to be going smoothly with the criminal cases for the members of the Sun Devils who had been arrested. For once, it was working out as planned.
“Let’s go tell the girls the good news and celebrate,” James said, pushing back from the table.
I nodded before following him into living room. The ladies were sitting on the couch, chatting and laughing, and it was the happiest I’d seen Angel.
“It’s time to celebrate, ladies!” James exclaimed, slapping me on the back after I’d come to a stop next to him.
Fucker really wanted to be punched. He knew I hated that shit, and that was the main reason he did it.
Glaring at him, I spoke though gritted teeth. “Ready to eat?”
“What are we celebrating, Jimmy?” Izzy slurred, her smile sloppy and uneven.
They’d had almost an entire bottle of wine on empty stomachs. They were tipsy, giggling like high school girls, and Angel was sexy as fuck.
James’s smile changed when she called him Jimmy. I knew he hated that name. A few people at the agency had tried using it on him a couple of times. James’s fist had abruptly met their faces before they’d started calling him by his full legal name. Most changed to Caldo, preferring his last name to avoid any physical harm. Izzy, on the other hand, liked yanking someone’s chain.
“Izzy, you’ll pay for that later, but for now, we’re going to celebrate the future. Your brother and I are going into business together.”
“Oh God,” she whined with glassy eyes as she threw herself backward into the couch cushions. “My brother and my boyfriend—together forever.”
“Sounds like a greeting card,” Angel said, bursting into laughter before Izzy followed suit.
“Maybe I should get them that little heart charm that’s split in two and they can each wear one half.” Izzy slapped her knees, chuckling as tears began to stream down her face.
“All right, ladies. Let’s get some food into you both.”
“Drinks too,” Izzy told James as she wiped her face and stood.
James stroked her cheek, staring into her eyes with a grin. “Anything you want, Izzy. I’ll get what I want later.”
“Dude,” I said, pointing my finger at him. “Don’t say that shit about my sister. Especially in front of me.”
“Habit.”
“Get fucking new ones,” I demanded, holding out my hand to help Angel stand.
A few times this week, I’d called her Roxy. Then I’d been quickly reminded not to use the name. Each time, I’d spend ten minutes chanting the name “Angel” over and over again inside my head to help make it flow naturally.
“Since she’s your sister, I’ll try my best.”
“Ooh, baby, I love when you try your best,” Izzy declared, jumping on James and wrapping her legs around his body.
“Fuck,” I grumbled. This type of shit was going to happen all the time. I needed to just get used to it and ignore them or Izzy would try to push my buttons every time we were together.
She kissed his face, holding his cheeks in her hands as James held her by her ass. “I love you, Jimmy,” she blurted before kissing him on the lips.
James pulled his lips away and smiled. “That’s the only time I’ll let you call me that.”
“Ready to go, Ro—” I stopped dead as my eyes grew wide. Fuck. I knew I’d do it sometime. Watching them in my living room had me a little off-kilter. “Angel.” I hated the slip-up and prayed she wasn’t pissed.
“Yeah,” she said with a small smile, stroking my arm. “It’s okay, baby,” she whispered.
“Can you two disengage long enough to leave the house and get to the restaurant?” I asked, looking over at them as they kissed.
“Uh huh,” James mumbled, his lips pressed against Izzy’s. “Come on, Iz. We have to go eat.”
“No,” she breathed. “I love how you kiss.”
“Iz, babe, let’s go. We can finish this in the car on the way to the restaurant.” He winked at her and she instantly jumped down, marching straight for the door.
“We’re taking two motherfuckin’ cars,” I insisted as I wrapped my arm around my girl and followed James and Izzy into the foyer.
As I grabbed my keys off the side table, they walked outside and waited until I’d turned off the lights and locked up the house. As we climbed in our cars, I thought that this might be one of the longest nights of my life.
“What’s wrong, Thomas?” Angel asked as I closed the door and started the car.
“I’m so stressed tonight. I don’t know what the fuck is wrong with me.” I gripped the steering w
heel, feeling the leather slide underneath my palm.
“You need to relax,” she said, touching my bicep and giving it a quick squeeze. “Does it bother you that much that they’re a couple?”
I had to answer honestly. “Not really. I mean, it’s my sister, and I don’t need the shit thrown in my face. He’s my best friend, and I trust him with my life, so why not with my sister’s?”
“Habits die hard, baby. I’ll tell you this. She loves him.”
“She made that clear,” I said, the mental image of her body attached to him in my living room still burned into my vision.
“Not just love. She’s crazy about that man. Right before you two came in the room, she was gushing about him.”
“Gushing?” I asked, looking over at Angel. “Izzy has never been a gusher.”
“Head over heels in love with that man. I think they’re a cute couple.” She smiled, her small fingers stroking the inside of my arm.
“Yeah,” I mumbled, looking over at her. Her words were true. I couldn’t think of two people who deserved each other more than James and Izzy. They could spend a lifetime busting each other’s balls.
“If you trust him with your life, why don’t you trust him with your sister’s?”
I sighed. She was right. “I do.” It wasn’t a lie.
“It’s settled, then,” she said, releasing my arm. “Now cheer the fuck up. I really like your sister, by the way.”
“Either you love her or you hate her. She’s one of those people.” I tried to keep my eyes off the rearview mirror. When I did glance back, I saw Izzy pawing at James, and they were both smiling.
“Well, I love her.”
“Ready to meet the family yet?” I asked, hoping and praying she’d say yes.
Ma would be relentless if I didn’t bring her with me. Everyone was expecting her, especially my parents. They weren’t easy to disappoint without feeling an overwhelming sense of Italian Catholic guilt.
“Yeah,” she squeaked, catching me by surprise.
“Yes?” I felt like a weight had been lifted off my shoulders with her agreement.
“I’ll go.” She pulled the visor down and checked her makeup in the mirror.
“You’ve made me the happiest man in the world,” I declared.
“That would be James right now, but don’t look,” she warned, pointing at something in her mirror.
“Fuck,” I muttered. Maybe going into business with James wasn’t the best idea after all.
Chapter 16
I groaned as I rolled over. My eyes didn’t just sting from lack of sleep—they ached as I tried to open them. How much had I fucking had to drink? My head felt like my brain was trying to push its way through my skull. My stomach churned from a simple movement. I needed to make a mental note: Do not try and out-drink Izzy Gallo again. The girl was little, but fuck. She was like a goddamn bottomless pit. I had never been a heavy drinker, never developed a tolerance for it, but hell. I’d try to keep up with the best of them, and she was a fucking champion.
“Baby,” I mumbled, throwing my arm over my eyes to block out the light.
“You okay, Angel?” he asked in a smooth, sultry morning voice.
From what I remembered, he and James had talked business and watched as Izzy and I’d gotten shitfaced. They were so excited about the new venture, and Izzy and I were in a fit of giggles. The more we drank, the funnier shit got. They were trying to come up with names for their private investigator business, and Izzy and I came up with every funny name we could think of and almost got us kicked out of the restaurant in the process. We came up with Tricky Dicks, Private Dicks, Pick a Dick, and Quickie Dicks. If it had the word “dick” and rhymed, we said it. We thought we were hilarious, but the guys? Not so much.
“My head is about to explode,” I complained, speaking slowly and quietly.
“I figured you’d feel like shit today.”
“Ya think?” I asked in a snarky tone. “Fuck. How am I supposed to go to your parents’ house feeling like this?”
He rolled over, the bed dipping, which almost made my stomach’s contents empty on the spot. It had been a long time since I’d been this hung over. Why had I picked last night of all nights to do that shit?
“Stop moving!” I screeched, moving my hand to cover my mouth.
The bed shook from his deep laughter. “Sorry,” he whispered, but continued laughing. Even though the bed was barely moving, it might as well have been an earthquake with the way my stomach was being jostled.
“Baby, you really need to stop fucking moving.” I wouldn’t call myself grumpy, just ill.
“I’m going to go make you a little hair of the dog.”
“Ugh,” I groaned, praying to pass out. It was so much better when I was asleep and oblivious to the way I’d mistreated my body last night.
“I promise it will make you feel better.”
The bed dipped and sprang back to its original form, and I rolled to the side, trying to find the edge. I wanted to lie on the floor, thinking it would be a more stable surface.
“Ouch,” I cried as I plopped on the hardwood floor with nothing to break my fall. So not a better choice. I sprawled out, closing my eyes as I let the coolness of the floor soothe me. Everything was spinning, even the blackness behind my eyelids.
“Want me to help you into the bathroom?” he asked from the other side of the bed.
I wasn’t going to open my eyes to see where he was. “No. Leave me here to die.”
“I’ll be right back,” he said, snorting.
Then I heard his footsteps. It sounded like a bear was walking the halls. Every sound was amplified, and I couldn’t imagine listening to a loud Italian family today with this type of hammering in my head.
Drool started to dribble from my lip and collect under my face on the floor. I didn’t bother to wipe it away. I couldn’t move. Fuck. I said a little prayer, promising to never drink again if God would only make me feel better. We all make that prayer when we’re in over our head, even though we know it’s a crock of shit.
His loud footsteps woke me again. “Up ya go. You have to drink this.” He touched my shoulder, making my body lurch away without thought.
“Just kill me. It’ll be easier,” I whined, my body molded to the floor. I had to look like quite a sight. Sprawled out, naked, lying in puddle of drool, with my legs bent in an awkward way. I was too sick to even care, in all honesty.
“Nah. I love you too much to let that happen,” he said, his voice closer than it had been before.
He loved me. He loved me. I didn’t think I could ever get sick of hearing those words.
Peeling one eye open, I saw his knee close to my face. “I can’t sit up by myself. It’s impossible.”
Placing his hands under my arms, he began to lift me.
“Oh, God,” I grumbled. Everything started to move, and I had to seal my eyes shut to keep whatever was in my stomach down.
He propped my back against the bed and held me by the shoulders. I took three deep breaths, trying to push down the lump that had formed in my throat. Using every ounce of energy I had, I brought my knees up to my chest and rested my chin against my cool skin. Then I opened my eyes just enough to see him kneeling in front of me and looking fresh as a fucking daisy.
Removing one hand from my shoulders but still holding me steady, he grabbed the glass and held it in front of me. “I swear this will make you feel better.”
In the glass was a Bloody Mary. The thought of something so salty and thick made me instantly start to gag.
“I can’t,” I closed my eyes.
“Come on, Angel. Just a small sip,” he coaxed me, pulling my chin up in his direction.
When I opened my eyes, I was met with a look of concern and love—tilted head, soft eyes, and a small smile. He was staring down at me with the glass in his hand.
“I’ll try,” I agreed, knowing he was right. I needed to fight through it and somehow down the liquid.
&nbs
p; Bringing the glass to my mouth, I grimaced when I got a whiff of liquor and tomato. I pinched my nose with my other hand. Even if I had to taste it, I didn’t want to smell what I was going to guzzle. My senses were on overdrive, so blocking one out was a good thing.
“How about a hot bath?” he asked, brushing the hair away from my forehead as I tried to take bigger and bigger gulps of the salty concoction.
“Mm, hm,” I grunted, feeling the thick liquid slide down my throat. If I didn’t puke now, it wouldn’t happen.
There’s nothing worse when you want to puke than having something slide down, coat your throat, and take its fucking time to settle in your stomach.
As he walked away, I took a break from the drink. Placing the cool glass against my forehead, I closed my eyes and took a couple of shallow breaths. After the water turned on, I saw him walking back and forth, grabbing a bottle from the linen closet and some towels.
I sighed, taking a few more sips, and stared straight ahead. After drinking the last bit of the Bloody Mary, I set the glass on the floor, leaving my hand next to it. I was wiped out, physically worn, like an old shoe in need of repair.
He returned to the bedroom moments after the water turned off. “Want me to carry you?” he asked, standing in front of me.
“I can crawl,” I whispered, moving forward and stopping almost immediately.
Crawling wasn’t a smart idea either. My knees ached from the hard floor, my head throbbed worse from the pressure, and the Bloody Mary was starting to creep back up the way it had gone down.
“Stubborn woman,” he mumbled, scooping me up in arms and holding me against his chest.
I wouldn’t say it was a better way to travel, but at least I didn’t have to expel any energy and could focus on not hurling on him during the short walk to the bathtub. I slumped against him, curling into a ball as he carried me.
The water sloshed as he stepped inside the tub. Keeping me against his bare chest, he sank down into the water, holding me safely in his arms. Letting the warmth surround me, I rested my head on his shoulder as he leaned back, taking me with him.