A Love Letter to Whiskey
Page 63
And the entire room turned to look at him.
He bent at the waist, holding up his hand not holding whiskey. “Sorry, inside joke.”
Angel’s eyes jetted to me then, and I almost felt my skin melt off my face from her glare. I probably should have reacted in a mature way by putting the gift away and turning the attention on her somehow, but in that moment, I didn’t care what she thought. I smiled, caught Jamie’s eyes once more, then Sylvia handed the wax back to me and I tucked it away.
In that moment, I realized he was still my Jamie — even if just a little bit.
When dinner was wrapped, the girls hugged and kissed everyone goodbye before making their way to the airport. The excitement radiated off them, and Jamie didn’t seem nervous in the slightest that his bride-to-be was jetting off to one of the top party cities in the nation for a two-night bender before their big day.
Angel, on the other hand, had no problem showcasing her insecurity. Jamie was gathered where his parents and I had set up camp when she came rushing over, throwing her arms around him and kissing him in a way I was sure Wesley and Rhonda could have lived forever without seeing. She made sure I saw her tongue against his, her hands in his hair, his on the small of her back. When her eyes popped open, they were still kissing, and she narrowed them at me before pulling back.
“I’ll miss you,” she cooed, fixing his shirt. “Behave, okay?”
“Always.” Jamie kissed her again, his a little more parent-friendly, and Angel gave me one last pointed look before joining her bridesmaids. They hooted and hollered as they left the room and then the two families set to work gathering up anything left behind.
As soon as she left, I could breathe a little easier. My hands found my ribs and I forced a breath against the tight fabric of my dress.
“You good?” Jamie asked.
“Yeah, just ready to get out of this dress,” I said without thinking. I meant it exactly as I said it — I was ready for zipperless pants and a wireless bra — but when I turned to face him with a smile, there was that whiskey burn behind his irises.
“We should go out. The guys all have work tomorrow, but I took off. And it’s early,” he said, checking his watch. It wasn’t even six yet, but I knew for sure that the last thing I should do is go out with Jamie alone.
“I’m actually still pretty beat,” I whispered, clearing my throat to find a stronger voice for my next statement. “Probably going to stop by and see a few friends and then turn in early.”
Jamie’s face fell. “Oh, yeah. Okay.” He shrugged his hands into his pockets and nodded to the gift bag hanging from my wrist. “So, you like the gift?”
I grinned then. “You’re such an ass. Rory would have liked you.”
He laughed, tucked me under his arm, and we walked out together. I turned down his offer for a ride back to the hotel, insisting he stay behind with his family and I’d catch a cab. I had lied, I didn’t have any stops to make, anyone to see, and I went straight back to the hotel. I took a long, hot shower, dressed more comfortably, and kicked back on the bed with an audible sigh.
Flicking the television on, I debated calling River, but thought better of it. After an hour of watching Family Guy, I turned the TV off again and pushed a breath through flat lips.
It was nine o’clock.
On a Friday.
“This is pathetic,” I murmured, hopping off the bed and sliding into my sandals. I didn’t bother putting on makeup or changing, just grabbed my hotel key and purse and made my way downstairs.
I was suddenly craving whiskey.
THANK GOD FOR DOUBLETREE.
Those were the words I whispered under my breath as I munched on a free, hot cookie and drank Crown Royal black on the rocks at the hotel bar. I’d struck up a casual conversation with the bartender, Beuford, but for the most part I just sipped and snacked, watching the sports highlights on the television above the liquor bottles. I had no idea what any of it meant, the extent of my sports experience being the games I watched in high school and the four Pirate games I’d managed to make it to with the crew from work. Even then, I had no idea what was going on — I just cheered and booed along with everyone else.
It might have only been a touch less pathetic than lying in my hotel bed, but I felt good about my decision to mosey down to the bar. There were a few others around me, one man about my age at the end of the bar who was still dressed in business attire with a conference name tag hanging around his neck, two older couples conversing at a table behind me in the cushioned seating area, and from time to time, families would breeze past on their way out or to the pool. Just having the noise and other people around me made me feel better, and truthfully, it was about all the social interaction I could handle at that point.
The day had been hard.
I knew going into the weekend that it would be, but seeing Jamie with Angel had kicked me in the groin harder than I thought it would. It was easy to repeat the words to myself in a bathtub miles away — Jamie is getting married — but actually seeing him with his fiancé was a completely different story. It burned, it seared, it scarred.
Sighing, I took a long pull from my glass and ate the last of my cookie, brushing my fingers off just as the seat beside me was pulled out.
“That’s more like it,” Jamie said, and I paused mid-chew with the cookie still in my mouth. He eyed my glass, lowering down on the stool and waving a finger at the bartender. “I saw you nursing a glass of water at the rehearsal dinner.”
I dry-swallowed the rest of the cookie and lifted my glass. “Yeah well, I wasn’t in the mood to drink then.”
“What changed your mind?”
“I’m sure you could guess.”
The bartender placed a napkin in front of Jamie and he ordered his own Crown Black, poured neat, after confirming that’s what I had in my glass. He took the first sip and sighed.
“You know, I’d like to say I’m surprised to see you here, but I guess I shouldn’t be, huh?”
He shrugged. “You act like I don’t know you.” His hand was still wrapped loosely around his glass as he angled himself toward me. “I figured you’d get back here, realize it was early and you can’t sleep after all, and end up here. I didn’t know for sure,” he added. “But I guess tonight, luck was on my side.”
I picked up my glass and twirled it in my wrist, shifting the ice. “Guess so.”
He bent at the waist, holding up his hand not holding whiskey. “Sorry, inside joke.”
Angel’s eyes jetted to me then, and I almost felt my skin melt off my face from her glare. I probably should have reacted in a mature way by putting the gift away and turning the attention on her somehow, but in that moment, I didn’t care what she thought. I smiled, caught Jamie’s eyes once more, then Sylvia handed the wax back to me and I tucked it away.
In that moment, I realized he was still my Jamie — even if just a little bit.
When dinner was wrapped, the girls hugged and kissed everyone goodbye before making their way to the airport. The excitement radiated off them, and Jamie didn’t seem nervous in the slightest that his bride-to-be was jetting off to one of the top party cities in the nation for a two-night bender before their big day.
Angel, on the other hand, had no problem showcasing her insecurity. Jamie was gathered where his parents and I had set up camp when she came rushing over, throwing her arms around him and kissing him in a way I was sure Wesley and Rhonda could have lived forever without seeing. She made sure I saw her tongue against his, her hands in his hair, his on the small of her back. When her eyes popped open, they were still kissing, and she narrowed them at me before pulling back.
“I’ll miss you,” she cooed, fixing his shirt. “Behave, okay?”
“Always.” Jamie kissed her again, his a little more parent-friendly, and Angel gave me one last pointed look before joining her bridesmaids. They hooted and hollered as they left the room and then the two families set to work gathering up anything left behind.
As soon as she left, I could breathe a little easier. My hands found my ribs and I forced a breath against the tight fabric of my dress.
“You good?” Jamie asked.
“Yeah, just ready to get out of this dress,” I said without thinking. I meant it exactly as I said it — I was ready for zipperless pants and a wireless bra — but when I turned to face him with a smile, there was that whiskey burn behind his irises.
“We should go out. The guys all have work tomorrow, but I took off. And it’s early,” he said, checking his watch. It wasn’t even six yet, but I knew for sure that the last thing I should do is go out with Jamie alone.
“I’m actually still pretty beat,” I whispered, clearing my throat to find a stronger voice for my next statement. “Probably going to stop by and see a few friends and then turn in early.”
Jamie’s face fell. “Oh, yeah. Okay.” He shrugged his hands into his pockets and nodded to the gift bag hanging from my wrist. “So, you like the gift?”
I grinned then. “You’re such an ass. Rory would have liked you.”
He laughed, tucked me under his arm, and we walked out together. I turned down his offer for a ride back to the hotel, insisting he stay behind with his family and I’d catch a cab. I had lied, I didn’t have any stops to make, anyone to see, and I went straight back to the hotel. I took a long, hot shower, dressed more comfortably, and kicked back on the bed with an audible sigh.
Flicking the television on, I debated calling River, but thought better of it. After an hour of watching Family Guy, I turned the TV off again and pushed a breath through flat lips.
It was nine o’clock.
On a Friday.
“This is pathetic,” I murmured, hopping off the bed and sliding into my sandals. I didn’t bother putting on makeup or changing, just grabbed my hotel key and purse and made my way downstairs.
I was suddenly craving whiskey.
THANK GOD FOR DOUBLETREE.
Those were the words I whispered under my breath as I munched on a free, hot cookie and drank Crown Royal black on the rocks at the hotel bar. I’d struck up a casual conversation with the bartender, Beuford, but for the most part I just sipped and snacked, watching the sports highlights on the television above the liquor bottles. I had no idea what any of it meant, the extent of my sports experience being the games I watched in high school and the four Pirate games I’d managed to make it to with the crew from work. Even then, I had no idea what was going on — I just cheered and booed along with everyone else.
It might have only been a touch less pathetic than lying in my hotel bed, but I felt good about my decision to mosey down to the bar. There were a few others around me, one man about my age at the end of the bar who was still dressed in business attire with a conference name tag hanging around his neck, two older couples conversing at a table behind me in the cushioned seating area, and from time to time, families would breeze past on their way out or to the pool. Just having the noise and other people around me made me feel better, and truthfully, it was about all the social interaction I could handle at that point.
The day had been hard.
I knew going into the weekend that it would be, but seeing Jamie with Angel had kicked me in the groin harder than I thought it would. It was easy to repeat the words to myself in a bathtub miles away — Jamie is getting married — but actually seeing him with his fiancé was a completely different story. It burned, it seared, it scarred.
Sighing, I took a long pull from my glass and ate the last of my cookie, brushing my fingers off just as the seat beside me was pulled out.
“That’s more like it,” Jamie said, and I paused mid-chew with the cookie still in my mouth. He eyed my glass, lowering down on the stool and waving a finger at the bartender. “I saw you nursing a glass of water at the rehearsal dinner.”
I dry-swallowed the rest of the cookie and lifted my glass. “Yeah well, I wasn’t in the mood to drink then.”
“What changed your mind?”
“I’m sure you could guess.”
The bartender placed a napkin in front of Jamie and he ordered his own Crown Black, poured neat, after confirming that’s what I had in my glass. He took the first sip and sighed.
“You know, I’d like to say I’m surprised to see you here, but I guess I shouldn’t be, huh?”
He shrugged. “You act like I don’t know you.” His hand was still wrapped loosely around his glass as he angled himself toward me. “I figured you’d get back here, realize it was early and you can’t sleep after all, and end up here. I didn’t know for sure,” he added. “But I guess tonight, luck was on my side.”
I picked up my glass and twirled it in my wrist, shifting the ice. “Guess so.”
