Ian smirked. “I’m thinking six shots might be your limit.”
“I’m thinking my limit should’ve been zero.”
“Lightweight.” He laughed. “Let’s stick to beers next time.”
“There won’t be a next time.”
And I meant it. I was more than happy to hang up my party hat and go back to being Ian’s designated driver. It wasn’t like I’d ever been much of a drinker anyway.
Gwen had always acted slightly uneasy if I’d tipped back too many. Her reaction wasn’t unexpected. She’d had a rough childhood growing up on the fringes of Cabramatta with a mother who’d never known when to stop. I didn’t want to dredge up any pain from her past. A couple of beers watching a game or enjoying a glass of wine with dinner suited me just fine.
The only time I’d ever let loose was at my sister’s wedding. Years ago. Back in the days when my father was alive and the Sullivans still pretended to be a happy family. That sordid affair had descended into too much drama to survive sober. I’d escaped hearing the snide remarks flying between my parentsby parking myself at the open bar—and didn’tthatget tongues wagging.
Good ol’ reliable Toby wouldn’t get shitfaced at his sister’s wedding, would he?
For the record, I wouldn’t. My sister, Tanya, would’ve ended me if I’d ruined her big day. But by the time the speeches had rolled around, I’d been more than a little unsteady on my feet.Sayonarato my filter. Gwen had sunk lower in the chair beside me. My family’s relentless squabbling had worn away her usually tough outer shell, but she shouldn’t have worried. My speech had been legendary.
Tanya had framed a quote and mounted it with her wedding photos. People still laughed about it. My mother hadn’t laughed, though. She’d barked at me that I was an embarrassment. The story of my life. She’d never gotten my jokes.
Kayleigh’s party was a bit like my sister’s wedding. Uncomfortable. Too much drama. The whiskey shots had been a bad idea. Scratch that. Going to the damn party had been a bad idea. But after hauling ass through a twelve-hour day, I had no gas left in the tank to psych myself up for another night of Gwen ignoring me or to fight off Ian and his “great idea” of me tagging along. I should’ve bailed.
The throbbing in my temple refused to let up. I rubbed it with my palm as I fell in step beside Ian. “What time is it anyway?”
“Just after ten.”
“Ten!” I fumbled in the back pocket of my trousers. My wallet… Keys… “Shit. I need to get home.” I patted down my chest even though I’d tossed my jacket somewhere hours ago. No phone. “Have you seen my—”
“Mate.” Ian’s palm clapped down on my shoulder. “Relax. You asked me to cover for you…remember?”
“No.” I couldn’t remember shit.
“You’re golden.”
I shoved my hand through my hair. Nothing was golden. I’d already missed cuddling Noah before his bedtime. I’d probably missed seeing Gwen, too. Traffic wouldn’t be bumper to bumper this late at night, but by the time I walked through the door, she’d be asleep.
My chest hollowed. Gwen hardly talked to me anymore. Sure, she chatted about Noah, and sometimes a smile ghosted her lips when I kissed her cheek hello, but only sometimes. Now, I’d missed seeing the one shred of proof she still loved me.
Ian and I didn’t pass anyone on our way back to the living room. The swarms of people who’d crowded the apartment had disappeared. Not that it mattered. All I needed was to find my phone and get the hell out of there.
I scanned the kitchen counter, but Ian kept walking toward the front door.
My brows furrowed. “Where are you going?”Wait. Why was his jacket already in his hand? “I don’t believe this! You’re pissing off?”
“My duty here’s done. You’re alive. The party’s over.” A dark brow arched, and an odd smile followed. “For some of us, I suppose.”
What the…?I might hurl after all. If Ian polluted my ears with any details about his dating app conquests, I couldn’t be held responsible for what happened next.Lock up your bathmats.
“Can you at least stick around to help me look for my phone?” I asked, lifting a pile of fashion magazines. “It’s got to be here somewhere…”
“Kay will help you look for it.”
“Oryoucould.”
“Tobes, come on. I’m just doing what you asked me, okay?” Ian avoided my eyes as he shrugged on his jacket. “I don’t need a front-row seat.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“What we talked about earlier.” He pointed a look at me as if I should have a clue what was going on. “Trust me. Have I ever let you down?”