Chapter Fifty Four: Drunk

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"Tom? Is everything alright? Have you been crying?" Chris sounds concerned.

Tom holds out the phone, indicating that he is needed by whoever occupies the other end.


"Chris? It's Billie."

He laughs. "Hey there stranger."

"Have you been drinking?"


"Good. You're on babysitting duty. Don't let Tom have anything else to drink. Is he still crying?"

Chris looks at Tom, who's now sitting down in the booth, tears trickling from his eyes as he quietly pouts, reminding Chris of a young child who can't go outside to play.


Billie sighs. "How much has he had to drink?"

"Um...Tom, how much have you had to drink?"

"I t-told her already that I didn't have anything!"

"Tom. How much?"

"Um...I don't know. I kind of...lost track after my fourth, no, fifth, drink."

Chris raises his eyebrows before returing to his conversation with Bea.

"Too much, I'd say."

"Can you bring him back to the hotel? I think he needs to go to bed."

"Of course...If I can find him."


When Chris had turned back to the booth, Tom had disappeared. His eyes scan the room before landing on a mass of disheveled curls near the bar.

"How the hell did he make it across the room that fast?" he mutters, more to himself than to the woman on the other end of the line.

"What's going on?"

"It's fine, Bea. I'll get him back to the hotel, don't worry," he assures her, trying to push his way past the sweaty bodies on the dance floor.

"Thanks Chris."

"No problem. Goodnight, Bea."


The line goes dead as Chris approaches his target, who just so happens to be downing another drink. He grabs Tom's elbow and forces the glass from his hand.

"I was drinking that!"

"Let's go, Tom."

"I don't wanna."


The fully grown Englishman looks at his friend and narrows his eyes, acting, yet again, like a young child.

"I. Don't. Want. To."

"What are you going to do if we stay?"


"Is that all?"

"And drink. Another!" he yells, a little too loud for Chris' liking.

"Tom, do you remember talking to Bea a few minutes ago?"

"Of course I do! I'm not" hiccup "drunk, man."

Chris rolls his eyes.

"Do you miss her?" he asks, hoping to get him back into a mood where he can be easily manipulated to leave.

Tom looks up from the glass that the bartender has just placed in front of him and nods slowly, tears once again building in his eyes.

"She wants me to bring you to the hotel."


"You're not going to disobey your wife, are you? You wouldn't want her to be upset with you."

"Is she upset? I'm sorry! I didn't mean to! Tell her I'm sorry, Chris!"

"She won't be upset if we leave right now."

Tom nods and stumbles his way to the door.


Your POV

You move about the kitchen, cleaning up the mess you made from last night's meal. You neglected to do it the night before and now you're regretting it, the plates that had been sitting all night refuse to release the crusted leftovers. Your phone rings and you happily leave the dishes to soak in the dishwater.

"Goodmorning, Tom," you sing into the phone. You're met with a groan. "Long night?"

"I don't really remember."

You laugh. "Anything I can do for you?"

"Well, when I checked my phone this morning, I saw that I had called you. Would you mind telling me the reason behind the call?"

"You were very drunk."

"Yes, I gathered that. What else?"

"You were crying. A lot."

"Oh, God. Why?"

"You missed me, and you were worried that I was going to find someone whom I would love more than you."

"What time did you get the call?"

"Almost three."

"I'm so sorry."

"Don't be," you laugh. "I was still awake. Besides, if you hadn't called, you might be lying face down in a ditch somewhere in a puddle of your own vomit."

"That's disgusting," Tom moans.

"Sorry," you laugh. "How are you feeling?"

"Terrible. My head hurts, I feel like I'm going to puke, it hurts to move."

"Well, take something and go back to bed."

"I can't, I have an interview in an hour."

"Tom! What were you doing out last night?"

"I didn't think I was going to drink that much! I figured I'd be back in the hotel and asleep by midnight."

You roll your eyes.

"Darling, I need to go," he says. "I'll call you later. I love you."

The line goes dead and you can't help but wonder what goes through your husband's head sometimes.

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