Page 114 of Sweet Caroline
“Well, that’s cause for celebration right there.” Pete motions to a bright-eyed staffer who looks barely old enough to vote.
The kid hurries over. “Sir?”
“Ethan, top me up, will you?” He glances my way before turning back to the young man. “And bring another one for my friend, here.”
“No,” I say, but it comes out quieter than intended and the kid is already hustling off, following orders. Across the room, Ethan opens a cabinet and pulls out a decanter, filling two glasses with a generous measure of scotch.
I take a conscious step away, clenching my fists at my sides, and try to command my breathing to steady.
Caroline is still deep in conversation with Fletcher, a frustrated frown marring her features.
What the fuck is he saying to her?
My heart thumps wildly against my rib cage like it’s jumping between the two sides of the room, just like my eyes. It’s like watching my past and my future.
No, it’s not, I remind myself.Because Caroline isn’t my future.
But she sure as shit isn’t just a distraction, either. If things were different… IfIwas different…
The distinct clink of crystal glassware pulls my attention back to Ethan and the two tumblers he’s carrying back to Pete. Saliva pools under my tongue even as my stomach roils.
No. Say no. Leave. Push it away. Anything.
But I can almost feel those familiar neural pathways wake up, yawn, and stretch before blasting electricity through my brain, lighting up every reason to accept the drink.
I’m losing the woman I love. Nothing else matters.
What’s one more fuckup, really?
It’s what everyone expects from me, anyway.
Relapses are common.
It’s only one drink.
Time seems to slow as Ethan passes Pete the glasses, the older man’s leathery fingers curling around the second tumbler and lifting it in my direction. As he extends his arm toward me, the amber liquid undulates like an invitation.
It’s just one drink. Just one.
“Dad!” Caroline suddenly pushes between us, forcing me to take a step back. “What are you doing?”
“Offering your guest a drink, sweetheart.” Pete’s smile is as slimy as his fucking personality, but he’s holding my kryptonite in his hand and my attention keeps jumping back to that glass of scotch.
“He doesn’t drink.” Without turning, Caroline reaches back and grasps at me, clumsily interlacing our fingers. An anchor point. I try to let it ground me, but I’m drawn in by something with a much stronger pull.
Fuck me.I just want one drink. Just one sip.
“Oh, what’s the matter?” Pete catches my gaze over her shoulder. “Can’t hold your liquor, son?”
I swallow the twin flames of anger and shame burning a path up my throat.
“Dad, stop,” Caroline begs, her voice breaking. “Put it away.”
“See, this is what I mean, Miles.” Ignoring his daughter, he steps closer, the whiskey sloshing gently as it encroaches on my space like it’s trying to reach for me. Pete drops his voice to avoid being overheard. “You’re just not the kind of man who fits in here.”
He’s right. I hate that he’s right.
“Dad!” Caroline turns, her hands finding my waist and her glacial eyes blazing up at me. “We’re leaving. Right now.”
