Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 95421 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 477(@200wpm)___ 382(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95421 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 477(@200wpm)___ 382(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
Considering I had canceled four meetings in the last two days, I might not for long. Yet I shrugged. “It pays the bills.”
The bartender slid the drink over to my side of the bar and extended a hand. “Remy Soriano.”
I shook, even though I didn’t feel like making small talk. “Dawson Reed.”
“So why are you drowning your sorrows two nights in a row in a shithole like this?”
I slugged back half of my glass. The alcohol burned going down. “Does the owner of this place know you insult the customers and call it a shithole?”
He smirked. “Sure does. I’m the proud owner of this shithole.”
I chuckled. “What makes you think I’m trying to drown my sorrows? Maybe I’m just an alcoholic who needs a new place to drink.”
“You took five hours to kill three not-so-strong vodka sodas last night and wobbled out of here. You aren’t good enough at drinking to be an alcoholic.”
Fair point. But he was still waiting for an answer. So I thought I’d give him one that would make him go away. “I almost killed someone.”
His brows jumped, but unfortunately, he didn’t budge. “Did they deserve it?”
“Not in the least.”
“Was it an accident?”
I sighed. “If you don’t mind, I’d prefer not to talk.”
Remy held up his hands. “You got it.”
I pointed to my glass. “How about making these stronger today?”
“You’re the boss.”
I spent the next three hours drinking four drinks. The bartender hadn’t been exaggerating earlier—three made me wobble. So I probably should’ve stopped there because four, well, four made me talk too much.
Remy brought over a dish full of nuts and a tall glass of something. “Water,” he said. “Drink it. And you should put something in your stomach too.”
“You ever fall in love?” I slurred.
“Every other Friday night when I don’t have my kid for the weekend. I go on Tinder and fall head over heels, then get over it by morning and see myself out.”
I snort-laughed. “That’s the way I was. I fucked up, thinking things could be different.”
“What happened? You met some girl-next-door type who promised you a home-cooked meal and love and then banged the pool guy when you went to work?”
“No, I’m the one who fucked up.”
“Can you make it right?”
I caught the bartender’s eyes, though he had four of them at the moment. “The person I almost killed? She was my girlfriend’s sister.”
He whistled. “I’m not sure there’s a Hallmark apology card or a big enough bouquet for that.”
I sucked back the remnants of my vodka soda like it was the water sitting next to it. It no longer burned, at least. Then I pushed my empty glass toward my new friend. “I’ll take another.”
“You sure? It’s always the last one that makes us do something stupid.”
“Stupid is what I’m good at.”
***
I lifted my head, and it felt like part of my face stayed stuck to the dirt beneath it. Wait…dirt? I blinked the rest of the way to consciousness and looked around at my surroundings. Where the hell am I? In a kid’s playhouse? Pushing upright, I squinted at the offensive sun blaring in through a small open door and raised a hand to try to block it. That’s when it hit me. I wasn’t in a kid’s playhouse. I was in a doghouse. And from the look of the brick home twenty feet away, it wasn’t just any dog’s house. I was in Bailey’s yard.
Oh fuck.
What the hell am I doing here?
And how the hell did I even get to Greenwich, Connecticut?
I struggled, thinking back to last night. It was hazy, but I remembered going to some bar. The bartender was Ren or Rowan or…Remy. It was definitely Remy. And fuck, my head was pounding right now. It hurt so much that I lifted a hand to feel around and make sure it wasn’t cracked. But there was no wetness, no blood.
What the hell happened?
I remembered the bartender taking my phone and helping me call an Uber. And I thought maybe he and some guy who’d been watching a horse race might’ve helped me into it. After that, though, I drew a giant blank. And I was pretty sure if I tried to think any harder, I was going to puke. No, no. I’m definitely going to puke anyway.
I crawled to the entrance of the doghouse and made it in the nick of time. Fluids burned my esophagus as I emptied the contents of my stomach all over Bailey’s mother’s grass. If it was even her house anymore. I hadn’t been here in years.
I was still dry heaving when I heard a door open and close. A few seconds later, a woman’s shoes walked into my field of vision. I shut my eyes. Fuck. I’m going to wind up getting arrested. Worse, I had no choice but to lift my throbbing head and look up.