“Single is single,” Faye said.
“Even if single isn’t single, oh well,” Carla added.
“You two are bad for me,” I said.
“We’re so bad, we’re good,” Faye said. “Now pick that guitar back up. We’re not done yet.”
“I have an idea,” Carla said. “Let’s make Ernie let us drink for free and we get drunk.”
“How are you going to do that?” I asked.
“Give me five minutes alone with him,” Carla said. “And he’ll let us do whatever we want.”
Carla walked away with a smile.
I loved her confidence.
I loved that Faye was laid back.
I loved that my shell was cracking.
There was only two things left to do.
Get drunk… then tell Liam how I felt about him.
Chapter Thirty-One
Liam
I laughed when Emily sent me the pictures of her on stage with a guitar.
She looked so fucking beautiful.
It was unfair.
Either Carla or Faye took the picture because the angle was from down on the floor.
Emily was in mid hair throw with a smile on her face hidden behind her hair. But I could see it. I could see her hair. I could fucking smell it if I shut my eyes.
The picture made me tense up in all the right ways.
As I sat behind my desk at work, a knock at the door took my attention away from the woman I loved.
Jacob walked a folder to me.
“What’s this?” I asked.
“I went through all those depositions for you,” he said. “Highlighted some interesting parts. I think we might be able to revise the timeline.”
I opened the folder and flipped through the pages. “If this works and we get the lawsuit dropped… this is a big deal, Jacob. Did you do this alone?”
“Completely alone,” he said.
“Anything else?” I asked.
He shook his head.
I could tell something was tearing him up inside.
He walked to the door and I gritted my teeth. “Hey, kid.”
Jacob looked back. “Yeah?”
“Sometimes the biggest dreams don’t involve big buildings and big paychecks. Seems to me that those who have that shit are just as unhappy as the guy with nothing. You have to ask yourself something… do you want to leave work and go to a bar and throw cash around looking for someone to fuck or do you want to go home to someone who’s going to hug you?”
“If this is your way of getting me to quit, it won’t work. I know David is going to end up with the job, but I’m still going to work my ass off.”
Jacob left the office.
On a professional level, I respected his work ethic.
On a personal level, he needed to find his girl and make things right.
But who was I to talk, right?
My phone buzzed again and it was another picture of Emily.
This time she was squished between Carla and Faye.
All I knew was I hadn’t seen that kind of smile on her face in a long time.
I noticed they all had shot glasses in their hands.
I looked at the time.
I laughed.
Getting drunk on a work day?
I started to look at the work Jacob did and Emily texted me right back.
Hell to the yes, Liam. Wanna join? ;)
I groaned.
Then I stood up.
I wanted to do more than join.
I wanted to steal Emily away.
I had years to make up to her.
I grabbed my mail out of the mailbox and when I tossed it to the counter I saw the thicker envelope slide away from the rest of the pile.
I noticed the handwriting on it.
Then the return address.
Which was just the word Boston.
And the handwriting was Miranda’s.
“What the fuck is this?” I whispered.
I couldn’t believe the anger and annoyance that went through my body and mind when I saw her name. That wasn’t good. Whatever was going to happen here, we still had a lot to figure out. This wasn’t two people dating and breaking up. This was…
I tore the envelope open and reached into it.
I felt something soft and pulled out a ball of tissues.
I dug through the tissues and let out a laugh as the engagement ring hit the counter.
That’s what she did.
She put her ring in an envelope and mailed it to me.
I grabbed the envelope again and looked at it.
So that was it then.
Not that I was expecting things to work out.
Done was done as far as I was concerned.
But this was typical Miranda. She knew how to make a grand gesture when it came to arguing or proving a point.
I picked the ring up and studied it.
The day I bought it, I wasn’t sure of it or what I was doing with it. Somewhere in my heart I knew it wasn’t going to be good enough for her. Yet I wanted it to be this simple gesture of… something.
The truth was I fucked it up as much as she did because it was for all the wrong reasons.
I had no idea what to do with the ring.
I dropped it to the counter and walked to the cabinet where I kept the good whiskey.
There was no glass needed for this celebration.
I took one drink.
Then other.
Three met four.
Five collided with six.
And my next collision was going to be with Emily.
I got a ride to her apartment after she phoned to tell me she was home.
She warned me she was drunk.
Her voice wasn’t slurred, but she was definitely flirty through the phone.
The two minutes we talked, I stared at the engagement ring on the counter.
And for those entire two minutes I pictured the ring on her finger.
I could see her crying over the ring. Telling me it was too big, too much, and I shouldn’t have done it. I could see her smiling as she took the ring off and on when needed.
When I stood at her door with my hands empty, I cursed myself for not getting her flowers or wine or whiskey or something.
Then she opened the door.
Wearing an oversized, old looking sweater. Her left shoulder completely exposed. Smiling with whiskey stained lips and her eyes focused on me.
Her hair was messy the way it always was.
The woman I loved.
I walked into the apartment and grabbed her by the hips and pulled her right against me.
Emily let out a gasp.
My hands moved fast, touching her face.
I lowered my mouth to hers and it was finally meant to be.
Our first kiss was interrupted by her heart as she put her hands to my chest and pushed me back.
I watched as she licked her lips.
Her eyes bouncing left to right, staring, wondering if she should say something. Ask something. Do something else.
But we both knew what our fate was here.
I shut the apartment door and twisted the deadbolt as though it were the final piece of the puzzle between us.
I moved toward her again and she jumped into my arms.
We kissed and I took her to the first place I could find, which was the kitchen counter.
I sat her down and touched her face again.
My thumbs stroking her soft cheeks.
Kissing her with purpose. Tasting her thin lips. Feeling her tongue move against mine in a way that had my cock begging to be free. To finally be free and have what I had been dreaming of for more years than I wanted to admit.