Page 63 of A Better Place

“I got here a little bit ago. Miguel, the owner of this fine establishment, called me to let me know you guys may have had a few too many.”

“Ugh. I feel awful. He probably hates us. I have a feeling we weren’t very quiet, and I swear I saw your twin inside.”

“My twin, huh? Didn’t know I had one.”

She stares at me as understanding dawns in her eyes. “Oh shit.”

“Oh shit?”

“Yeah. Oh shit. Why can I never keep my mouth shut around you? I’m such an idiot.” She groans and puts her head on her knees now that she’s sitting on her butt, dangerously close to the vomit puddle.

“Let’s move out of here, shall we?” I help her stand up. She’s leaning against me, my arm around her waist. “And, you’re not an idiot. I can promise you that.”

“I’m not?” She looks up at me and bites the corner of her lip.

“No, baby,” I promise her and watch her eyes soften as she smiles lightly before she frowns.

“I don’t feel very good.”

“I’m sure you don’t.” I chortle. “Let’s get you home.”

Fifteen minutes later, I’m pulling into her driveway. I texted Jack before we left the restaurant to let him know he needed to let me in when he saw me pull up. As soon as I get out of the car, Jack steps out onto the front porch. I look over at the snoring Carly and wince, hating that he’s going to see her like this.

“What happened?”

“My sister and her friends happened.”

“What?” he asks, laughing.

“Well, your mom may have had a few too many margaritas tonight.”

He raises his eyebrows at me with wide eyes. “No way. Mom doesn’t drink like that.”

“Yeah, I know. So it could be ugly.”

“Well shit.”

I find it funny that he uses the curse word when his mom’s not coherent. “That’s about it.”

I walk around to the passenger door and lift Carly out, cradling her against my chest. I wrap her arms around my neck since she’s like a limp rag.

She nuzzles her nose into my neck then mumbles a little bit, but it’s nothing that I can decipher.

“I’ve never seen her like this,” Jack says, fighting a smile as he holds the front door open for me to carry her in.

“No?”

“Um, no. Mom isn’t the let-it-loose-over-margaritas-type.”

“Yeah, I kind of gathered that.”

I lay her on the couch and remove her fuzzy boots. I knew that she had a class this afternoon, and now I’m glad she did. Yoga gear is definitely more comfortable to pass out in, which she’s already done.

Jack comes into the living room and sets a trashcan by her head and sits down on the coffee table. He looks her over then glances up at me.

“Is she going to be okay?”

I take a seat on the chair and nod my head. “Yeah, bud. She will. She’ll probably feel like crap tomorrow, but she’ll be okay. I guess it’s a good thing y’all are on Christmas break, huh?”

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