Page 18 of Reckless
Theo watches me, riveted by the story of my upbringing. We’ve resorted to sipping our shots of tequila after tossing two straight back.
“And you know what the worst part is? When she got knocked up, my mom fired her. Like it was her fault alone. And I loved Sofia. The nanny that came after wasmean. Like my mom wasn't just punishing my dad by hiring her, but punishing me too.”
Most people look at me with pity when I tell them this story. But Theo just looksentertained.
“God. I knew Kip was a wild card. But this...he’s a pig.” He chuckles out the last word, disbelief lacing his tone.
My dad is a top sports agent, and apparently, he represents Theo. A little tidbit I didn’t know until tonight. I knew he’d been Rhett’s guy, and when Rhett hung up his cowboy hat or whatever you say when a bull rider retires, he got his protégé in with the man who made him famous.
“Yup.” I pop thepbefore tipping the tall shot glass back and taking another sip that burns down my throat. A comfortable and unfamiliar heat blooming in my chest.
I can’t remember the last time I got properly drunk. Rob would tell me I wasn’t “appreciating the flavors” if I drank his wine past a certain volume and I was too damn busy busting my ass professionally to cut loose. Studying. Picking up extra shifts. Being on call.
Trying to keep up with my mom’s expectations of me.
“So, Sofia gets pregnant with Summer. Kip tells your mom.”
“Marina,” I correct, because over the years I’ve shifted to using her name. Or Doctor Hamilton, since we spend almost every day working together. “Her dream is for me to become an accomplished plastic surgeon like her. If I’d taken that route, maybe I’d still be calling her mom. But the chaos and unpredictability of the ER feels like home.”
“Is this all real? It’s like you’re recounting a soap opera to me. Sometimes my mom tells me about the plot forTheYoung and the Restless, and I swear I’ve heard this before.”
I scoff, wishing my mom would call and talk to me about something as mundane as a soap opera. The alcohol hums through my veins and I just keep going, processing out loud rather than in my head for once.
“I defied her for the very first time in my life, after years of being her puppet, and she turned that cruel side on me without even thinking twice.” My head shakes and Theo stares at me with those dark eyes, looking a little stunned. Probably hard to imagine when you have a mom who hugs you and tells you about her favorite trash TV.
“I wonder if that cruel side is as hereditary as Summer’s nice side, you know? Like maybe that facet of my personality is just waiting to rear its ugly head. I don’t want to be like my mom, but I worry I already am.”
“I think the fact that you’re even worried about that means you’re not like your mom at all.”
I take another sip. He’s sweet. I’m notthatreflective though. I’m just drunk and loose-lipped.
“Yeah. I’m a mess. Marina would never allow herself to end up where I am.”
His hand slides across the small, circular high top, his strong fingers tapping against my elbow. “Hey, hey. Sitting here with me isn’tthatbad.”
My head tilts further as I let my gaze scan him lazily, if a little drunkenly. “No. I agree. You’re pretty easy on the eyes.”
Under normal circumstances, I’d cringe at myself for saying that out loud. But nothing about sitting in this small-town hotel bar is normal.
“Woah.” He rears back a little, holding both hands up, a dramatic expression gracing his perfect features. “I said you should give being nice a try, not excel at it.”
My lips curve up slowly. He’s funny.
It strikes me I haven’t spent time around a lot of funny people in my life.
Smart. Academic. Accomplished.
Funny and nice have been very low on the list of traits I look for in the people I surround myself with.
“Am I a snob?” I wonder out loud, brain hiccupping all over the place.
“If you are, I like it.”
My eyes roll and I shift on my stool, feeling like I might slide straight onto the floor if I keep leaning on that hand.
“Why are you rolling your eyes?” He tosses his shot back and signals to the bartender for another. The man’s lips purse in disapproval, like he thinks we don’t need another round. And I almost laugh.
I’m so tired of everyone’s condemnation.
