The bartender chuckles, making it very clear that he’s been fucking up my order out of spite rather than ignorance all along.
I grab the bottle from his hand before he can walk away, and he must read the challenge on my face because he releases it without a word and walks back toward his limes.
“Picking on helpless bartenders now? You must be in a bad mood.”
Jinx sits on the stool beside me, but I focus on refilling my glass, unsure when I emptied it in the last thirty seconds.
“I know the results upset you.”
I wonder what his first clue was?
I huff, hating that in my drunken state I can’t manage to ignore him completely.
“You shouldn’t be here,” I mumble. Lifting the glass to my lips.
“And you shouldn’t be hell-bent on alcohol poisoning.”
Internally, I dare him to take the glass or the bottle away from me, but he must have a wicked sense of self-preservation because his hands remain clasped together on the bar top.
“You should be with Simone,” I hiss. “Not worrying about what the fuck I’m doing.”
“I just left her apartment.”
That fucking stings. I wonder if they celebrated their happy fucking news with his dick in her.
I shake my head with the thought. I’m being unfair. He wouldn’t do that. Sleeping with her again would muddy everything more than it already is. He may not be upset with the results, but he won’t change his mind about being with her. Getting tied down by a woman will always be a hard pass for him.
“Do you want to be with her now?”
Fucking drunken stupidity. The question is ignorant, but I can’t help but need to actually hear him tell me no.
“Simone cares for you, too.”
I scrunch my eyes together, unsure which part of that I should focus on. I want to celebrate that there’s a chance with Simone, but I also need to evaluate the fact that he avoided my question.
“That’s not what I asked,” I mutter, lifting my eyes from the liquor in front of me to see him for the first time.
“There’s nothing romantic—” I raise an eyebrow, “—or sexual going on between Simone and me, and there won’t be. We’re having a baby together. We’re going to spend time together. We’re going to co-parent and maybe sometimes argue over difference of opinions in regard to that baby, but that relationship is all we’ll ever have.”
I don’t know how he can sound so damn sure. I know they’ll spend time together. That’s always been a given, but I can’t fathom how someone can spend so much time with her and not fall head over heels. I’ve avoided her and it’s still fucking happening to me. Wouldn’t it be better to take a step back and let that happen between the two of them? Wouldn’t the parents being together be the healthiest option for a child?
“I see your mind working.” His eyes dart down to the bottle in my hands as if he can tell I’m ready to forgo the damn glass and just tilt the whole bottle up to my lips. “And you just need to stop. Simone and I will never happen. Ever.”
I want to believe him, but that morsel of doubt will take a long time to disappear, if ever.
“How about we head back to the clubhouse so you can sleep this shit off?”
I don’t move a muscle, but I don’t reach for the bottle when he pulls it out of my hand.
He must be in a caring mood because Jinx pulls a couple bills from his pocket and slaps them on the bar. His cheap ass must be fighting internally right now with paying for my drinks.
“You’ll fucking pay me back for that with interest,” he says.
Ah, there he is.
I grumble my agreement as I try, and fail, to stand on my own. Who would’ve known that rum could pack such a punch?
“If you puke in the vehicle, I’ll leave your ass on the side of the road,” he warns as he helps me to the parking lot.
“Take me to Simone’s,” I insist once I’m settled in the passenger seat and he climbs in behind the wheel.
“That is not fucking happening, and you know better than to ask.”
He’s right. Fucking of course he is. Getting drunk with a woman is not the same thing as showing up drunk on their doorstep.
“Sure is fucking bright outside for midnight,” I blather as I look at the