Home > A Love Letter to Whiskey : Fifth Anniversary Edition(66)

A Love Letter to Whiskey : Fifth Anniversary Edition(66)
Author: Kandi Steiner

So, no. As much as you may hate me for it, I wasn’t thinking about Jamie. Not even a little bit.

In fact, I was so confident in my ability to not think about Jamie that I’d decided to drink for the first time in over a year. Part of my twelve-step program was giving up literal drinking, too. Every time I drank, I thought of Jamie. I wanted to call him or dwell on his memory. So, I gave up alcohol altogether — the literal and figurative versions, both.

But tonight I was celebrating, and so I’d popped a bottle of wine and though the old me could have pounded a bottle before feeling tipsy, the new me was drunk after half. But I was happy drunk — dancing, singing, packing. I felt it, a new chapter starting, a new day dawning.

I wasn’t thinking about Jamie.

Not until the exact moment he showed up.

It was a soft knock at first, barely heard over the rain and music, and I was right in the middle of wrapping a wine glass in newspaper.

“Just a sec!” I called. I’d just tucked the glass into a box when a second, louder knock came. I huffed, wondering why they didn’t just walk in anyway. I only ever had two visitors — Brad and Jenna — and both had keys. Clicking the pause button on my Taylor Swift jam sesh, I yelled louder. “I’m coming, I’m coming!”

I was still humming to the tune of I Wish You Would, hips swinging in my pale blue sleep shorts as I readjusted the bun on my head and pulled the door open without even checking the peephole. The air of it hit me with a whoosh, my smile bright and unsuspecting, and then I saw him.

Whiskey and water. A ghostly memory, a wound ripped fresh.

Did you know adding water to whiskey can actually enhance the flavor? It’s true. Turns out, a little dilution can be good, but in this case, it was my worst enemy. Because there was Whiskey, and there was water, but there was no dilution — no, his flavors had only grown stronger, they’d only aged better, and I knew with a head full of wine that I was in deep trouble.

Jamie was completely soaked, long hair dripping into his eyes and rolling down the bridge of his nose, the angle of his jaw, landing on the flat of his heaving chest. His eyes hit mine like a blast of fire, hidden beneath furrowed brows, and the muscle over his jaw ticked twice as he clenched his jaw. I felt the anger rolling mercilessly off his hot skin and into my apartment. His right hand lifted, fingers closed tight over an off-white sheet of card stock with mine and Brad’s names written in neat, gold cursive.

My eyes flicked to the wedding invitation and I swallowed, slowly finding him again. “Jamie,” I breathed.

“No.”

One word had never solicited such a guttural emotion from me before. I shuddered, tensing and waiting as Jamie clenched his fist around the invitation.

“Fuck no.”

He pushed through the door then, moving past me quickly, leaving my arm slick with the water still falling off him. I stood in the doorway for a moment longer, closing my eyes and forcing three full breaths. You can do this. You’re clean. You are in control. I set my shoulders and turned, closing the door behind me.

“By all means, let yourself in.”

His back was to me, the ridges of it defined in the sticky, wet t-shirt he wore. He was shivering, and I wasn’t sure if it was from the cold rain or his anger.

The longer I stared at him, the more I felt. Pain. Anger. Fear.

That last one was a new emotion, but it was the strongest. The truth was that even then, I knew what was coming. I could sense it. I was clean, but I hadn’t been tested yet — and Jamie had picked the worst possible night to give me my final exam. I was drunk, I was high off emotions, I was not ready. And I was deathly afraid of the mistake I knew I’d make if he only pushed me hard enough.

Jamie faced my large window, looking out at the slanted rain as it drenched the city. He held up his hand once more, invitation thoroughly crinkled now in his clutches. “What the hell is this.”

It was a question, but it wasn’t asked like one — it was posed as an accusation, one I felt all the way to my core.

“I tried calling you…” My voice was quiet, weak, and I hated that because it wasn’t a lie. I had called him — even after swearing I never would again. When Brad proposed, I knew I had to be the one to tell Jamie, even if he’d changed his mind about us. Even if he’d never called like he said he would. So, I tried getting in touch with him once more, but again, I failed.

Mom sent out the invitations last week.

Apparently his mailbox worked fine.

“Oh you did?” he asked then, spinning to face me. “And what exactly were you going to tell me? That you’re getting married? Please tell me you’re kidding, because I know that’s not what you were going to call me to tell me. I know this invitation can’t be real. This is all some big joke, right?”

Fear and sadness drained away and my defenses went up. Who the hell did he think he was? After two years of silence, he’d showed up demanding answers I wasn’t sure he had a right to know. I crossed my arms, resting heavy on one hip. “Excuse me?” I scoffed. “No, Jamie, my fucking wedding is not a joke.”

“So you’re getting married?”

“Yes!”

Jamie’s other hand flew to the invitation, ready to rip it to shreds, but he stopped himself, gritting his teeth before throwing the paper to the floor and running his hands through his soaked hair. He shook his head, and then one hand jutted out toward me. “How? How, B? After everything that… after we…”

“You never called!” I yelled, throwing my hands up in exhaustion. My apartment suddenly felt too quiet, only the pelting rain and our harsh words breaking the silence. “What was I supposed to do, Jamie?”

“Wait!” He cried the word out on a breath of desperation, face twisting with the emotion that had forced it out. “You were supposed to wait.”

“For two years?”

“Yes!” Jamie stepped closer then and I flinched back. That reaction seemed to stun him, and he paused. “For as long as I needed.”

“That’s not fair,” I cried. “I tried calling you, I tried calling everyone around you. You never called, you never wrote — you completely ghosted me.”

“Oh, feels kind of shitty when you’re on the other side of that, doesn’t it?”

His words pummeled me, head snapping back with the figurative slap of them. It was the first time I thought of it that way. Jamie had waited for me — for three years, after I left Alder — and I’d never called him. I’d never given him any reason to wait. And yet still he had.

But I hadn’t.

“That was different, that… I didn’t promise you anything.”

“Not then you didn’t,” he corrected me, just as a flash of lightning lit up the darkening sky behind him. “But just less than two years ago, you did. You promised me you’d wait.”

“I love him!”

My voice broke with the admission, Brad’s image assaulting me out of nowhere and reminding me why I couldn’t have this conversation with Jamie. I’d promised myself to another man, one I loved madly, one who treated me right. One who was available — who always had been when it came to me.

“You do, huh?” he mused, nodding. He nodded over and over, small movements, teeth working the inside of his lower lip and nostrils flaring. Jamie looked around then, and it was as if he’d just realized he was in my apartment — for the first time. There were half-packed boxes littered everywhere. It was all there, proof I’d moved on without him, and I watched every second as it settled in. He turned back to me slowly after a moment, and his hazel eyes questioned me before his mouth did. “And do you love me?”

Hot Books
» House of Earth and Blood (Crescent City #1)
» A Kingdom of Flesh and Fire
» From Blood and Ash (Blood And Ash #1)
» A Million Kisses in Your Lifetime
» Deviant King (Royal Elite #1)
» Den of Vipers
» House of Sky and Breath (Crescent City #2)
» The Queen of Nothing (The Folk of the Air #
» Sweet Temptation
» The Sweetest Oblivion (Made #1)
» Chasing Cassandra (The Ravenels #6)
» Wreck & Ruin
» Steel Princess (Royal Elite #2)
» Twisted Hate (Twisted #3)
» The Play (Briar U Book 3)