Page 10 of Christmas in Comets Valley
Only after I blabbered to a complete stranger did I realize Iprobablyshouldn’t have willingly given that information to anyone. It was starting to makea lotmore sense how people died so easily in horror films now.
Internally cursing myself, I kept the door cracked with my hand on the lock in case I needed to slam it shut on a moment's notice. “Who are you, her ex or something?”
“God no.” The man made a noise like he was going to wretch up his stomach onto the doormat. Which likely wasn’t far off from reality based on how drunk he was. “Juliet’s my sister. My ex’s name is Robin, and she’s a bitch. I’d rather die than be caught crying on her doorstep at two in the morning.”
The criminal, who claimed to be Juliet’s brother, stood to his feet and nudged his way through the door. “Juliet keeps a bottle of scotch in the cabinet above the fridge. Be a doll and grab it for me?”
I could smell the alcohol oozing from this man's pores. The last thing he needed was more booze. “You’re drunk. And crying. I don’t think more alcohol is going to help your cause right now.”
“I am not drunk.” His steps faltered as he walked into the living room and threw himself onto the couch. “Okay. Maybe a little.”
“Why are you drunk exactly?”
“My life sucks,” he whined. “To start, my ex—”
“Robin?” I questioned.
“Yes, she left me four months ago.” He let out a pent-up breath. “I found a note on the kitchen counter when I got home from work that said, ‘Sorry I can’t be with you anymore. I’m taking Milo with me.’ The woman took my dog. Who takes a man’s dog? I loved that dog!”
“Damn.” I winced. “The scotch is above the fridge, yeah??”
He nodded.
Standing on my tiptoes, I opened the cabinet above the fridge, and sure enough, there was an unopened bottle of scotch waiting for the taking. He might’ve thought I got it down for him, butIwas the one who was going to need a drink if this man planned to pour out his entire life story to me.
If I found out he was a stalker later, I wouldn’t feel as bad knowing that he’d done his homework and covered his bases beforehand. But then again, I guessed all stalkers would do their homework before making any moves.
Shit.
“That same week,” he started again while I settled onto the couch next to him with the bottle of scotch in hand. “I sold my company. Which isn’t a bad thing except for the fact that I don’t know what to do now with all the free time I have. I’m going mad—mad!—sitting around watching television all day.”
Relatable.
Well, the not knowing what to do with the newfound free time part at least. This guy couldn’t be much older than thirty-five, and the thought of giving up Inamra and retiring a few years from now sounded like a nightmare.
“I’ll drink to that.” I pressed my lips against the bottle and took a giant swig. The warm liquid rushed down my throat, and my entire body felt tingly after a few seconds. I threw back another drink for good measure before passing the bottle over to my new friend, whose name I still didn’t know.
“So, not only am I dogless, girlfriend-less,andunemployed… to top it off, I’m homeless too.” He slouched lower into the sofa. “I moved back to Comets Valley to be near my family, but there aren’t any houses for sale for twenty miles—twenty miles!—Can you believe that? So, now I’m a thirty-six-year-old single man who’s living out of my parents’ basement.” He huffed out a ragged breath that smelled the equivalent of a brewery. “My life is a fucking shit show.”
“Dogless… you forgot dogless on the last one. And jobless too.”
“Goddamnit!” he wailed, knocking back a long swig of the amber-colored liquid.
“Don’t get me wrong, all of that sounds less than desirable, truly. But it doesn’t explain why you’re crying like… that.” I waved my hand in a circular motion over his face.
“There’s no reason. I’m just an emotional drunk.” He sniffled. “Every time I get this drunk, I weep for no reason. Just endless inconsolable sobbing. I can’t help it.”
“Remind me to never bring you to a party,” I muttered in a low voice.
Although part of me felt bad for saying it because the guy was obviously going through a rough patch. Yet, another part of me didn’t feel bad at all though because the guy scared me absolutely fucking shitless in the dead of night all so he could cry on Juliet’s couch.
“What’s your name?” He handed the bottle back over to me after taking a few more drinks.
“Aera. Yours?”
“Elliot. Want to be friends?” he asked casually, taking the bottle from my hand and throwing back another drink before passing the bottle over to me once again.
“Sure.”
