Page 75 of Hard Hitter
She was seated in the middle of the rug, knees to her chest, forehead in her palms. “I’m drunk,” she said, as if this was news.
“I know, baby. It’s okay.”
“I’ve had more drinks this month than in the last”—she paused to hiccup—“year.”
“Is that bad?” he asked, walking over to her and sinking to his knees.
“Maybe? I think my chakras are out of alignment.”
“You can work on that tomorrow,” he suggested. “Let’s put you to bed.”
“I brought a toothbrush in my purse. I thought I was going to crash at Becca’s.”
He got up and found her bag and brought it to her. Then he picked her up in his arms and carried her to the bathroom, steadying her in front of the sink.
“I can do this,” she said, nudging him away.
“Please don’t fall down and hit your head.”
She made a noise of displeasure. “You do sometimes. They pay you for it.”
Women. They outargued him even when they were drunk. “Just humor me and stay vertical. I’ll find you a T-shirt to sleep in.”
After spending a few minutes in the bathroom, Ari shuffled out and sat on the edge of his bed.
“Here,” he said, handing her two ibuprofen and a glass of water. “Do you think you could take this? How’s your stomach?”
“Fine,” she said. “Thank you.” She swallowed the pills and drank the water.
O’Doul set the glass aside. “Let’s get this off,” he said, lifting her shirt over her head.
“Mmm,” she sighed, and reached for his fly.
He let her fumble with his zipper because it kept her busy. He had her changed into his T-shirt just a couple of minutes later. “There you go,” he said, pulling the covers back. “Hop in there.”
She didn’t hop, exactly. It was more like a military crawl. He pulled the covers up to her chin and she sighed. “Come to bed?”
“In a few minutes.”
He spent some time putting the glassware in the dishwasher and shutting off lights. By the time he finished getting ready for bed, Ari was curled up on the pillow, breathing softly. Sleeping.
But when he got in on his side (and since when did he start thinking of his bed in halves?) she rolled to face him. Ari put her hands on his chest and sighed. So he pulled her closer. “The room is spinning,” she complained.
“I got you,” he whispered, laying a hand on her head, enjoying the silky softness of her hair.
“Not supposed to like you so much,” she murmured.
“Uh-huh,” he said. “Tough luck, because I’d be an awesome date.”
“So humble,” she said into his T-shirt. “Thanks for letting us get sloppy on your parket.” She hiccuped again. “I meancarpet.”
“Totally worth it.” He chuckled, trying not to bounce her head around with his laughter. “You girls are very entertaining when you’re drunk.”
“Don’t know why you like me,” she slurred. “I’m a pain in the gluteus maximus.”
A month ago this whole scene would have been unfathomable—margaritas in his living space and cuddling in bed. He was getting comfortable with this. It made him feel useful in a way he wasn’t used to. “You’re not so bad,” he said, cradling her closer.
“It was not a good day. I have to hire the lawyer for more hours.”
