Page 89 of Goodbye Paradise
That was probably a good call. “Okay. Let’s go.” I let go of the tavern wall, and began walking to the Toyota. But it wasn’t easy. And my stomach rebelled just as Josh bleeped the locks. “Just a sec…” I said, but then had to double over and vomit on the gravel beside the car. My stomach heaved, and then heaved again. The sour heat of whiskey permeated my senses, and tears of discomfort flushed my eyes.
Fuck. Why did people drink?
I spit a couple of times, then opened the door. Josh thrust a water bottle in my direction, the one I’d put on the console earlier in the day. “Thanks.” I rinsed and spit, and then got into the car with him.
“That was really sexy,” Josh deadpanned.
“You’re…” I stopped a second, trying to figure out if what I had to say would be taken well. “You should fight back more often,” I said quietly. “It looks good on you.”
Josh gave me a long, exasperated look out of the corner of his eye, and I wondered how much time would pass before his anger wore off. I’d brought him low tonight. I got that now. And it would probably take a while before he trusted me again.
I would wait. Forever, if necessary.
He put the key in the ignition and turned her on. Putting my new baby in reverse, he slowly backed out of the parking space.
“Josh?”
“What?”
“It’s easier to drive at night if you turn on the headlights.”
With his foot on the brake, he dropped his head onto the steering wheel. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry. The lever is here.” The smooth skin at back of his neck was visible in the moonlight, and I yearned to put my hand there to sooth him. Instead, I reached over to flip on the lights.
With a sigh, he sat up again. “I can do this. It’s only eight miles on a lonely road,” he said.
“You can do anything, baby,” I whispered. “I only hope I’m allowed to stick around and watch.”
Without comment, Josh put the car in drive and rolled toward the road.
Several uneventful minutes later, we pulled up in front of the workshop. Josh got out and shut the door, then waited for me to haul my drunk self out and into the building.
My toothbrush was still in the bathroom. So at least I knew that he hadn’t finished evicting me.
I made my way carefully up into the loft, then I stripped off every stitch of clothing and climbed into bed. The bedside lamp was still on, blinding me, so I rolled to the side to escape its glare.
A few minutes later, Josh padded softly up to join me. He shut the lamp off and slipped into bed.
Three feet of empty space lay between us, and I was afraid to breech it. Who wanted a drunk asshole like me, anyway?
Nobody, that’s who. And to think I’d begun the night imagining myself the savior of not one, but two people.
What a crock.
Twenty-Seven
When I openedmy eyes in the morning, I was disoriented. The new king-sized bed felt different under my body. And the sunlight on the slanted ceiling above me was unfamiliar. A dull pain thumped in my head, and my mouth tasted of whiskey and sadness.
I turned my head, and was comforted by the sight of a sleeping Josh. His eyes lay peacefully closed, and his tousled hair fanned out over his ear.
He hadn’t gotten up to do the milking. My achy brain worried over this for a moment, until I realized it was Saturday, the day that Daniel milked by himself. Several months ago he’d told Josh to sleep in on the weekends. Those were the same days that I could sleep in, too. Looking back on this, it was clear to me now that Daniel had arranged this on purpose—given us two days a week to wake up slowly together.
Another gift from Daniel, and I hadn’t even realized it.
Looking over at Josh again, my heart gave a squeeze. It was a privilege to wake up beside him. And yesterday I’d somehow told him that it was something I could do without.
Not only was I an ungrateful asshole, I was an idiot, too.
