In Between the Lines

Chapter 20: If You Can't Fix It, Then Mix It

"Oh . . . why not?"

I counted several heartbeats before he spoke again.

His tone was clipped. "Is there a reason why you called?"

I took a deep breath as I cracked open the window, savoring the cool breeze that rolled in from the ocean. I glanced up at the moon. It was so big and bright and beautiful tonight, casting a milky glow over the sea. The image was peaceful. Night was peaceful . . . and I used to love the silence that it offered—I used to love the moon.

But now I thought I might like the sun better.

I might have a new favorite color.

"I called because I was having a really bad day," I said quietly.

"I don't see how that correlates."

Don't say it.

Hang up the stupid phone and go to bed now.

I added, "And I missed you."

Something like genuine surprise sounded from him. "You . . . missed me?"

"I know I just saw you a few hours ago, but even when everything went to absolute shit at dinner tonight, all I could think about was how I wanted to see you. So yes, Desmond. I missed you." I exhaled, slowly feeling the nausea bubbling in my stomach as my liquor caught up to me. I laid my forehead against the cool window frame, letting myself revel in the reprieve it offered from the heat of the alcohol.

It was a while before he said anything, but eventually Dez said, his voice a bit strained, "I missed you, too."

I shut my eyes. Relief. Yes, that was relief I felt—even as the world continued to spin. "Are you still mad at me?"

Another pause. "Yes."

See, you should have hung up.

I chewed on my bottom lip. "Do you still want to know the truth?"

"Yes, but I don't want it right now. Not in this state. I want it when it's something you decide on telling me and not just something you're throwing out because you're drunk and upset."

"I'm not that drunk."

"Is that so? And what, exactly, did you have to drink tonight?"

I glanced over my shoulder, at the near-empty decanter I'd left on the coffee table. Shit. Wasn't that just half-full?

"Whiskey," I answered.

"How much whiskey are we talking about here?"

"Just three glasses—"

"Three glasses?" Dez's voice hit a startling crescendo before it flew down to a harsh whisper. "Christ, Peacock! What the fuck! Three shots would have been enough to do you over, but three glasses?"

In spite of his yelling, I couldn't help the warmth pooling in my chest. "You called me Peacock again."

He muttered another curse. "Where are you now? Can you stand?"

"I'm standing now." I looked back up at the sky. "Have you seen the moon tonight? It's so pretty, but it's not as pretty as—"

"Go to your kitchen and grab a glass of water."

I peeled myself away from the window. "Why?"

"Because you are going to have one hell of a headache tomorrow if you go to bed like that. So just do it. And tell me when you're done."

I didn't know if it was the concern or the command in his voice that made me do it—but I listened.

I struggled a bit more than I should have to reach my kitchen, but I managed to not break any glasses as I swayed towards the sink and filled a cup to the brim with water.