Page 22 of Raging Inferno

“I think we’ve talked enough about me,” Jimmy says, pulling me away from my thoughts. Startled I turn my attention back to him and watch as he reaches across the table for my hands.

“Tell me about you,” he murmurs.

My eyes divert to our joined hands and I watch in fascination as he intertwines his fingers with mine. Immediately my mind wanders back to the first time Chris held my hands in his. I remember thinking there wasn’t another pair of hands on this earth better fitted for mine yet here I am staring at the colorful inked hand and it fits perfectly with mine.

It’s too much.

The easy flow of the conversation.

The interest in getting to know a man.

The hands.

His.

Mine.

Ours.

It’s too much.

Quickly, I snatch my hands away and push my chair back.

“Excuse me,” I say, rising to my full height. Bending down, I grab my purse and steal a quick glance at Jimmy. “I have to use the ladies room,” I lie already detecting the disappointment in his brown eyes.

Once inside the bathroom, I lean against the door and close my eyes. My time with Jimmy flashes before me like a movie reel. The way his eyes burned into me when I walked out of the house, the quiet car ride here, the sweet way he held out my chair and filled my empty glass. All he shared with me and the twinkle in his eyes as he leaned forward asking me to give him pieces of myself. If Chris wasn’t on my mind, I would’ve likely continued the conversation. I would’ve told Jimmy anything he wanted to know… the good, the bad and everything in between.

Pushing off the door, I make my way to the sink. There is a blush to my cheeks and the lipstick I was wearing earlier is gone probably staining the glass I was drinking out of. My hair is as perfect as it was when I left the house. To the naked eye, I look like a normal woman on a date with a man.

I’m not broken, bent or expired.

I’m alive.

There is a pulse beating inside of me.

At that thought, I’m reminded of my sister and her antics. If she was here she’d tell me to put on my big girl panties and go back out there. Or she would slap me. It really could go either way. With a sigh, I dig through my purse for my lipstick and decide I owe it to both Jimmy and myself to get back to our dinner. However, instead of a tube of lipstick, I find two tiny bottles of vodka identical to the one Amber gave me before I left the house.

It helped calm my nerves before and they are really tiny.

Like a shot.

I can totally handle two shots.

Then I can handle Jimmy.

Er—maybe handle is the wrong word.

Unscrewing the top of the first bottle I knock it back in one gulp. It goes down just as smooth as it did before.

Thank God for vanilla extract!

After the second bottle is empty, I throw both back in my purse and reapply a fresh coat of lipstick. Smacking my lips together, I smooth down my shirt and flip my hair over my shoulders. The alcohol warms me and I plant a smile on my face as I make my way back to Jimmy. Reaching the table, my heel catches on something and I go down…

I’d like to say it’s a graceful descent but, my mother didn’t raise a liar.

A lightweight who can’t walk in heels? Well, that’s another story. My mama broke that mold when she made me.

Like a lead in a bad romantic comedy, I fall right into Jimmy’s lap. We bump heads and he steadies me by wrapping one of his arms around my waist.

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