Probably why I haven’t drunk myself stupid since then.
Tonight has been wonderful. Not once have I felt like an outsider or been the awkward person listening in while everyone else laughs around me. Every conversation has been easy, like we’ve been friends for quite a while.
“Jocelyn, I’m so glad you came out tonight,” Tricia slurs next to me. I lean into her shoulder, feeling my body getting heavier by the minute.
“Me too. This is exactly what I needed. A nice escape.”
“Yeah, what’s up with that?” Ann asks. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you for a while but figured it was none of my business. Now that you’re here, I gotta know. What’s up with Mike? I mean, is he always an asshole?”
I swallow past the newly formed lump in my throat. Somehow I knew this would come up. Not because of his absence. He was never there before. But I guess the way he acted in public was more noticeable than I realized.
“He’s, well…”
Karen leans forward. “It’s okay. You can tell us. Look, we’ll start. Craig drives me nuts when he corrects my grammar all the time.”
“Yeah, and Dennis has this habit of smacking my ass in public. All. The. Time,” Ann adds.
“Jonah loves to act like he knows everything. When I correct him, he gets pissy and stops talking. Sometimes I do it on purpose simply to get some peace and quiet.” Brenda giggles.
Tricia leans back to laugh. “Patrick snores. That’s pretty much my only complaint.”
Their problems are all livable offenses. I wish I had their problems. But I don’t know them well enough to lay everything out on the table. And I may not be in the right frame of mind to stop myself once I start.
“Mike is difficult. I don’t think I have enough time to tick off his shortcomings.” Four sets of eyes find mine. “Let’s just say he treats me like I’m stupid.”
Ann slams her glass onto the table, making it shake. “I hate men like that. My ex was that kind of guy. Arrogant, asshole, thinking he could do everything and give nothing. And I was young enough to believe the words he said. Then I met Dennis and found out real men don’t act that way.” She grips my forearm, giving a light squeeze. “Look, we didn’t want to say anything,” they all look at one another, “but rumor has it Mike isn’t living at home. We don’t want to be gossipy, but you haven’t said anything. We’re not saying it has to be tonight, but when you’re ready, we’re here for you.”
A tear threatens to prick my eye. I’ve never had anyone concerned for me other than my parents.
“Thanks, ladies. I’m not quite ready to talk yet, but when I am, I’ll be sure to let you know.”
“Okay, we need to bring this conversation back to order,” Ann demands. “Favorite male lead you dream about. And go.”
“Ryan Gosling.” Tricia fans her face.
“Ew. No, that’s the wrong answer. Obviously it’s Brad Pitt. That man gets better with age,” Brenda says.
“If anyone gets better looking with age, it’s George Clooney.” Ann laughs. “Your turn, Joss.”
“Hottest male lead? Ryan Reynolds for sure.”
Everyone howls, causing a few heads to turn our way. Yes, we’re all on the Ryan train.
The server stops by, getting our last call drink orders. I’m about to say no more, but Tricia beats me to the punch.
“Joss wants the Phone Sex.” Everyone snickers, practically spitting out their drinks.
Are my eyes bugging out of my face? Pretty sure they are.
“No, she doesn’t.”
A wicked gleam shines in Karen’s eyes. “Yeah, you do.”
Nothing good will come of this. Jasmine leaves us while the girls continue to revel in my discomfort.
“Hey, I have an idea.” Ann leans toward the table. “Let’s all get some phone sex.” She grabs her phone and starts punching away at it, presumably to her husband.
Everyone else joins suit, giggling like they’re back in high school while showing each other their messages.
I look at my phone, trying to hide my frown. There’s no one to tease with dirty, inappropriate comments. Mike is out. Even if he were in the picture, he’d still send a snarky remark and not get the point of the message.
A name sticks out from the last few messages I’ve sent. No, I couldn’t. Could I?
Before I even realize it, my fingers fly across the screen.
Me: I’m drunk.
Okay, not sexy, or flirty. Now I can see why Mike never wanted to play along with me.
I’m about to close the app when I see three little dots dance at the bottom of the window.
Henry: You okay?
Me: Yeah. Everyone is sending dirty texts to their husbands.
Henry: Hmm….
I swallow hard past the lump in my throat. This is stupid. Even for me.
Another three dots…
Henry: What are you wearing?
Oh God. Is he…does he want to play along? Better yet, does he want me to play along? The flush on my cheeks deepens as I tread the waters of the unknown.
Me: Something short and highly inappropriate for my age.
Henry: I bet you look amazing.
Me: It’s done its job.
Henry: How short is it?
Me: Let’s just say the leather seats are very cold against my bare ass.
Thank God for autocorrect. There’s no way I’d be spelling these words correctly, not after this many drinks.
I try to set the phone down and rejoin the conversation, but it buzzes in my hand one more time.
Henry: Where are you?
Me: Golden. Why?
Henry: Sounds like you need a ride. Feel like picking up a stranger?
He can’t be serious.
No more dots dance across my screen. He wouldn’t.
Would he?
Jasmine makes her way back to our table, sliding a book into the middle after delivering our drinks. “You can pay me here whenever you’re ready.”
Closing time already? I don’t remember the last time I was up until almost two in the morning, not involving some sort of fight with Mike.
Damn martinis. I take a sip of the new one.
Damn raspberry deliciousness.
We wait until everyone’s finished before reaching for the bill. “Don’t worry, we’ve got it.” Tricia and Karen take the bill and give Jasmine their cards to split.
“No, that’s not fair. Let me chip in.” I start to reach for my purse, but I get my hand slapped away.
“Our treat. We’re just glad you came out.” Karen squeezes my hand.
Tonight couldn’t have gone any better. I think it’s safe to say I officially have a group of friends I can talk to, especially since they insisted I give them my number.
We walk to the doors and I’m surprised when I see their husbands all waiting for them, including Brenda’s.
“Oh, Jonah’s here?” I try to keep the surprise out of my voice.
“Yeah, ever since that text message, he’s been non-stop with the flirtation. He also said he knew it wasn’t safe for me to drive. Don’t worry, he’s totally okay giving you a ride home.”
I stumble on my heel and lean against the building. As I start to open my mouth, I turn my head to catch a guy walking up to us. Not just any guy. The guy that all my friends seem to think is the hottest thing ever.
Brenda’s mouth hangs ajar as Henry stands in front of me, hands shoved into his jacket pockets.
“Fancy seeing you out here.” His nonchalance is adorable. Even I believe this could be an accidental meeting. Or maybe it’s the vodka tricking my brain.
“Hey, Henry. What’s going on?” Brenda’s gaze bounces between the two of us, even though I’m sure the look of shock is still on my face.
He hooks his thumb over his shoulder. “I was just leaving the bar down the street and saw you ladies out here. Wondering if I can offer my amazing taxi services to anyone.”
Henry and Jonah shake hands. “I’ve got this on
e,” Jonah says, motioning to Brenda. “Jocelyn hasn’t said if she’s coming or not.”
The warmth in his eyes makes my mind up.
“I can take her home.” A lazy smile brightens his features as his breath curls around his face.
Jonah turns to me and I nod, giving my approval.
Brenda hugs me tightly. “Thank you for coming out. We’ll have to do this again.”
“Definitely.”
She looks between Henry and I again and waves as her husband helps her to their car.
Henry and I stand across from each other for a long minute. Surprisingly, I’m not overly cold. Then again, there’s enough vodka flowing through my system that would make a Russian proud. The fresh air feels great, though. Stops the waves in my stomach, or at least slows them down. Maybe the last two weren’t the best idea, but hindsight is always clear.
Actually, I think even my hindsight is drunk.
The earlier conversation with the girls pops into my head. Henry–the most eligible bachelor in town. These are not thoughts I need running through my already pulsing head. I pull on the hem of my skirt, trying to make more of it but failing miserably. Now I wish I’d gone with the matronly one.
Henry looks me over, starting at the shoes that I haven’t broken my neck wearing yet, then dragging slowly up my body, lingering over my waist and chest, before resting on my eyes. His own shine under the shadows of his hat. I’m drawn to them, unable to pull away.
When he smiles, I can’t help but match it.
“You were right. It’s definitely short.” The corners of his lips turn up in a smile.
I bark out a laugh. “Don’t judge.”
Henry helps me into his car, taking great care to make sure I’m secured before rounding the car and climbing in.
The drive home is quiet. I’m practically sitting on my hands to keep them from fidgeting or reach out to place one on his denim-clad thigh that I can’t keep my eyes off.
Until tonight, I never would have looked at him this way. He was my friend, my boss. Our kids play together. And I was unavailable.
Not anymore.
Henry pulls to the curb in front of the house and shuts the car off. He runs a hand over the scruff on his jaw. I can’t help but watch the movement. Something sparks inside me. Something dormant. Enough to make me press my thighs together as I make eye contact with him again.
“Do you need help getting inside?”
I shake my head. “I-I’m fine.” Stupid hiccups.
He eyes me suspiciously. “Somehow I doubt that. You barely kept your eyes open on the way here.”
I laugh, loud and hard. Not sure why I find this funny. Nothing about this is funny. Henry is my boss and I’m drunk in the front seat of his car.
Maybe I do need his help.
Testing the waters, I open the door and grab both sides, trying to gracefully slide out of the seat. My heels catch on a crack, almost spilling me onto the grass if it weren’t for Henry’s strong arms wrapping securely around my waist, pulling me into the safety of his chest.
Damn he smells good. Really good. Something citrusy but earthy. Masculine. Something I’ve never smelled on him before.
Did he wear it for me?
I think I need sleep.
Our eyes connect again and his smile stops me in my tracks. If the alcohol wasn’t slowing me down, the look he’s giving me surely is.
“Let’s get you inside.” He helps me along the sidewalk, one foot at a time. After I drop the keys several times, he takes them from me and opens the door.
Heather is sitting on the couch, flipping through the channels. She turns her head and smiles, though it slips slightly as she eyes Henry.
“The kids are asleep. We didn’t quite make it to bed on time,” she says, looking away.
I force a smile. “That’s okay.” Digging through my purse, I fish out the money I set aside for her.
“Thanks.” She gathers her stuff together before tucking some hair behind her ears as she looks over Henry. “Hi, Mr. Monroe.”
“Henry, this is Heather. She lives a couple houses down.” Heather giggles as Henry shoves his hands into his pockets.
“Nice to meet you. Sorry to barge in but I gave Jocelyn a ride home.”
“He’s my boss,” I say, trying not to let her jump to any conclusions.
Heather looks between us. “Oh, you work at Lakeside?” I nod. “Sweet. I’ll have to come and visit you one night. I love eating there.”
“Let me know when you’re coming and I’ll get your meal for you.” Henry’s offer is sweet.
A flush crawls across Heather’s face. Looks like she’s affected by Henry’s good looks too. “We’re still on for tomorrow?” she asks, turning her attention back to me.
“Yeah,” I say, making her pause at the door. “You’re still good with three?”
She nods and smiles. “Sounds perfect.”
I follow Heather outside with Henry close behind, probably to make sure I don’t trip and kill myself. I know she’s only a few houses down, but the mom in me still wants to make sure she gets there safe. When her front porch light flickers, I wrap my arms around my middle and start walking back inside. Henry latches the door behind us.
Leaning against the hall table, I bend down to take off the shoes of death. Henry leans against the door, watching my every move. It’s unnerving and undoubtedly welcome. I can’t remember the last time a man has looked at me this way.
“Where’s your Advil?”
“Bathroom cabinet,” I say, pointing to my bedroom down the hall.
He disappears, leaving me alone. The couch looks inviting, all soft and comfortable, even though I know better.
Henry reappears with a closed hand and a glass of water.
“Take these.” He drops the three green gel caps into my hand and I toss them back, chasing them with the water.
I pat the cushion next to me. “Sit.” He lifts a brow. I can’t help but laugh. “Just for a bit. It’s the least I can do since you drove all the way to town just to pick me up.”
That smile. It does things to me. Fluttery things.
Dirty things.
“It was my pleasure.” Henry looks around, seemingly taking everything. “You know you can just bring the kids to work tomorrow night if you need to. I don’t mind.”
“I don’t want to get into the habit of constantly bringing them with. It’s not good for them and it’s not good for you. I mean, your kids aren’t always there on the weekends.”
Leaning forward, he rests his elbows on his knees. “That’s because Wendy knows I work weekends and she’s flexible with our arrangement.”
“Will they be there tomorrow?”
“No, Wendy went out of town with them.” Those tantalizing fingers run across his beard again and for a brief moment, my mind blanks.
His tongue darts out to lick his lips. I can’t help but mimic him, feeling suddenly dehydrated. Cotton fills my mouth, my lips dry, yet I know if I open my mouth, I’d be drooling.
He takes off his hat.
Yep. Drooling.
He went out of his way to come get me tonight. Not complaining or out of obligation. He chose to get me, to make sure I got home safe.
A fire licks at the surface and I find myself without any water to put out the flames.
Maybe the alcohol has made me bold, or listening to the girls talk about how great their husbands are and how amazing of a man they thought Henry is. Whatever the reason, I lean forward and press my lips against his. Soft at first, light. Like I’m kissing a relative goodbye. Then, it changes, morphs into something resembling need. My lips go pliant against his, allowing him the ability to lead, guiding me to where he wants me.
Never does Mike enter my mind, which should scare me. Instead, it propels me, wanting to find a bit of the newfound happiness I’ve discovered recently.
Even though I’m willing to go forward, Henry is the one who puts the brakes on first. “Jocelyn.” Need and trepid
ation mix in his voice, an odd combination.
I’m sure this is confusing him. As far as he knows, I’m married. Taken. Off the market.
I force my eyes to focus, searching his to find some sort of indecision on his part.
Nothing.
He wants me, as much as I want him right now. I can feel it as my hand presses against his chest, his heart beating a pounding rhythm beneath my palm.
Closing my eyes, I lean forward again, only our lips never touch. Darkness takes over as the same rhythm fills my ears, lulling me into serenity.
Dying. That’s what this is. Nursing the mother of all hangovers while trying to get five tables their orders is not what I consider a good time. I’d rather be home, sleeping, or chugging water until I’m floating.
Mainly sleeping.
The kids were a horrible alarm, not understanding the drum solos that were beating in my head. Sick days don’t fly with kids, not when you’re a mom. It took a lot of effort–and coffee–to make them pancakes with fresh fruit. They surprised me by cleaning up after themselves and staying relatively quiet the rest of the day. At least until Heather came over. Jacob changed out of his skateboarding t-shirt into a button-down, which made me smile. His crush is adorable. My little man is growing up.
The holiday season has people out in droves, wanting to stop in for only a cup of coffee to warm up or for a piece of Henry’s famous pies. Conversations have been easy, everyone going on about their shopping excursions or upcoming meal preparations. Grandkids and nieces and nephews, who’s playing Santa Claus, or how long do you cook a sixteen-pound turkey. All of it puts a smile on my face.
I’ve only spilled one glass of beer on my arm tonight and it took everything in me not to throw up in a garbage can. Ashley noticed and didn’t even bother to contain her smile.
“You look rough. Late night?” She fills several glasses with soda and places them on a tray.
I swallow hard before reaching for my glass of water. “You could say that.”
“You’ve never been hung over before, have you.” It’s not a question.
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