Page 49 of When I Come Back
Fuck.I roll my eyes and take a deep breath.
“You did the right thing. Can he at least walk?” At this point, I don’t know what I did to piss off the universe, but clearly, I did something terrible in a previous life. I don’t let Nat hear the frustration in my voice though, it isn’t her fault that this is happening.
“I think so, yeah,” she replies.
“Alright, good. Just don’t serve him anymore, I’ll be there in a few minutes.” I’m fully dressed now, grabbing my keys from the counter and pulling my purse onto my shoulder as I walk out of my house.
“I’ve been giving him watered down soda for the last thirty minutes because he kept asking for more,” she admits.
“Good, good. Thank you, Nat. See you soon.” I hang up the phone as I’m getting into my car. Lucky for me, I’m still in my anger stage hours later.
I slam the door of my car more forcibly than necessary, pissed off I had to drive here past midnight to pick up a drunk Cary. I weighed all my options on the way back to RED. Do I call him an Uber? Do I take him to his hotel? What if Iris is there waiting for him? Maybe she changed her mind. Me showing up with a drunk Cary wouldn’t look good. Then I’d reminded myself I don’t have to walk him to his room, he can find his way his-damn-self. I’ll just drop him at the door. At least then I won’t have to worry about whether he got to his hotel safely. Problem solved.
I stomp up the steps to the front door, fumbling with my keys to unlock it since we closed about half an hour ago. I hear the music playing as I walk into the lobby, locking the door back up behind me.
Cary isn’t one to drink like Brooks, but when he does drink, he gets pretty flirty. I expect to walk in on him flirting with Nat, but instead, I hear him talking about me.
“—really fucked up, Nat. And Thea’s just—she’s just so pretty. Right? You’ve seen her. You know,” he muses, slurring some of his words, as he holds his glass in the air, his elbow on the bar. My cheeks heat, and Nat giggles behind the counter as her eyes find me. He follows her gaze, his eyes lighting up when he sees me.
“There’s my Lemon!” his voice booms through the empty room, excitement evident on his face. Excitement that is notreciprocated on my own, and he must catch on to my mood because his smile quickly falls. “Oh… you’re a mad Lemon…”
I’m glad to see he’s not so drunk he can’t tell I’m pissed. He starts to get up from his seat but stumbles. I pick up my pace to put an arm around him before he falls on his face, looking at Nat as I do. “Thank you, Nat. I appreciate you looking out for him and calling me. Please take anything he said with a grain of salt.”
He turns his head to me then quickly turns back to Nat. “No. No. Everything I said is true. Take it as the fucking truth.”
I roll my eyes and sling his arm over my shoulder to brace him as he walks. “Right. Let’s go,” I say, turning to leave and dragging him with me.
“Where are we going, Lem?” he asks, sounding truly curious like he has no idea where I could be taking him.
I wince as we walk since almost all his weight is leaning on me. “I’m driving you back to your hotel,” I say matter-of-factly, leaving no room for argument and never meeting his eyes.
He shakes his head as he says, “I don’t have my room key. Or my wallet.”
I stop us and finally look up at him. “What do you mean you don’t have your wallet? Where’s your wallet?”
He just shrugs and responds, “I ran out to find you and just… forgot, I guess.”
I take a deep breath, going through my options in my head—again. In the off-season, the hotels in town don’t have after-hours services. I’d have to call someone to come in and reprint his key.
“Fuck,” I mutter under my breath. I start walking toward the door again, pulling his arm down my shoulder a little more to make it slightly more comfortable. “I guess we’re going back to my house then.”
He doesn’t respond immediately, and I assume it’s just because he’s drunk. Once we’re outside, and we’ve made it downthe patio steps, he finally speaks again. “You’re mad at me,” he says quietly, and it comes out more of a statement than a question. I realize then his silence was more introspective than a reflection of how wasted he is.
“I’m more than mad at you, Cary.” I don’t elaborate—I don’t need to. He knows what he did and who he hurt. We walk a bit more, almost to the parking lot before he stops me. He pulls away from my arms and stands in front of me.
“What can I do?” he asks, his voice sounds so sincere it almost breaks my heart all over again. Guilt etched deep in his drunken eyes and defeat written all over his slumped shoulders.
I throw my hands in the air at him. “There’s nothing you can do. You have a fiancée. A very beautiful, very kind fiancée. You put a perfect fucking ring on another woman’s finger, Cary. Why are you even here with me? You should be chasing her down before she leaves.” My voice is louder now, my anger bubbling to the surface again.
He looks over at me then scoffs right before he says, “I don’t want her. That ring isn’t hers. It was always supposed to be yours.”
His words knock the breath out of me, and I feel like the ground beneath me might cave in and swallow me whole. I almost wish it would. “Wh—what?” I stutter out, his gaze still locked on me. “Mine?”
He nods his head, not giving me anymore of an explanation.
“I don’t—how? I don’t understand how a ring you bought for me ended up on another woman’s finger, Carrington.” Even drunk, he winces at my use of his full name.
Once he recovers, he clumsily shrugs his shoulders in response and turns his eyes to the ground instead of mine. “She just… found it. What was I supposed to do?” He looks so defeated and tired.
