Wine and Whiskey (Surviving Absolution #1) (30 page)

“I talked to Shae. She’s not moving
back.” Not that he can blame her. No woman would consent to Nick’s unrealistic
demands after having her heart broken, even one as patient and tolerant as
Shae. Her sweet nature not enough to repair the damage Nick has caused.

“You need to—”

“It’s already taken care of.”

Six years ago when he took this job, Nick
was living hard and fast, with too much money and freedom. Thrust into their
world after the attempt on his father’s life by his number two in command, Nick
stepped up and took the reins. Too arrogant to know he should be scared, he
bulldozed his enemies and made an example out of the coup leader. Not because
he loved his father, but because it was either that or die.

Now, Nick rules an empire he doesn’t want,
yet accepts his fate for what it is. Until Shae came along. Just like a drug,
one taste of a normal relationship with a sweet, beautiful woman, and the
addiction took hold. Withdrawal will be slow and painful.

Nick shakes his head, his unfocused eyes
swimming in the alcohol flowing through his body. “I can’t let anything happen
to her.”

“I know. She’s worried about you too.”

Nick rubs his thumb across the etched
letters on the
prismed
bottle before laying his head
back. “She loved it out here. This was her favorite spot.” Whiskey sloshes up
the sides as he taps the cushion. “I could have taken her anywhere in the
fucking world, but she was happy right here.”

Max nods. Nick talks to himself more than
him. Telling him what he already knows.

“She fucking owned me. I would have done
anything for her.”

“I know.”

“The fucked-up part is, she didn’t even
know it. She never asked me for anything or wanted anything.”

“Nope.”

“I had that ring made. It was like
fucking twenty-two carats or some fucked-up shit, and I don’t think she cared.
I could have given her a plastic band, and she would have been happy.”

“Yep.”

“I mean, I gave her that fucking
chocolate cake, and she was fucking thrilled.”

A smile crosses Max’s lips. Shae does
love her sweets.

“Why did I fuck it up?”

“I don’t know.”

He catches Nick’s phone as it vibrates
off the table. “Are you going to read these messages?”

Nick’s answer is a long drink, emptying
the bottle.

Max’s stomach turns as he scrolls through
the string of messages, never expecting Nick to deny himself the only thing
he’s ever wanted. To hurt the only woman he’s ever loved. “Fucking shit!”

“What?”

“You’ve really fucked this up.”

“Read it!”

Max takes a deep breath, pain for both of
his friends clenching in his gut at the words.
“‘This is Carrie. I hope you’re fucking happy. You promised you would
never hurt her, and now you’ve destroyed her.’”

Shards of glass sprinkle across the tops
of Max’s shoes from the bottle bursting against the railing. He can’t help but
roll his eyes to the cloudless sky. “You’re one fucked-up motherfucker.”

Nick breaks the seal on the other bottle.
“Like father, like son.”

* * * *

Three Weeks Later

Shae’s mat scrapes
against the wooden slats of her deck as she presses her palms into the foamy
material. Without needing to give it any thought, she glides from one pose to
the next, seeking the release stretching her muscles usually provides. Yet,
peace evades her mind as her pulse races through her tense body.

“Are you scared?” Carrie’s frown radiates
through her voice without Shae needing to open her eyes and see her face.

“I’m terrified. That’s why we’re doing
yoga.” She smiles at both her friend’s lack of focus, as well as the warmth on
her face as she tilts her head upward. “Well, at least I am. You keep talking.”

“I know. I’m sorry, but I’m too nervous
to clear my mind and become one with the earth, or whatever the hell we’re
supposed to be doing.”

“It’s okay. But please talk about
something else. I can’t think about it right now. I’m trying to calm myself
down, and you’re freaking me out.”

The ensuing silence reflects Carrie’s
struggle to think of something else to say. As much as she does. Anything but
how in the next few minutes, they could receive an answer that will change
their lives forever.

“Umm…” Carrie’s fingers tap on the iPod
lying next to her. “Did I tell you we’re mentioned in the song Remington just
released?”

“Again?”

“Yeah, something like ‘
Shorties
at the club all
wanna
be
Shae, sexy girl home, with her friend Carrie,’ but he pronounces it Care-aye.”

Shae blinks against the brightness before
focusing on her friend sitting cross-legged in front of her. “Well, I guess
that kind of rhymes. And, thank you for not rapping it.”

“You’re welcome. You know you’re going to
have to give in and record with him, or he’ll just keep doing it.”

“I’m not ready to go back into the
studio. Of course, I’m the only one who feels that way. Team Shae is pushing
for me to start recording again.”

If they knew the truth, they probably
wouldn’t care, wouldn’t understand she’s not capable of doing anything more
than existing right now. Night after night, insomnia jumbles with dreams of
Nick coming back to her. All of her heartache eases in the darkness, only to
wake and discover the harsh reality she’s still alone.

“Don’t do it. You know it won't be good
if your heart isn’t in it. Look at what’s-her-face. Her last album was her last
album, if you know what I mean.”

“Maybe if I land another movie, it’ll buy
me some time.”

“Or maybe not.” Carrie rolls her eyes.
She too knows the beast that is Team Shae. “By the way, I’m sorry about dinner
tonight. I know you’re probably not in the mood to have to deal with Evan right
now.”

Evan
. Another painful reminder of her failures in making
relationships last. But tonight isn’t about heartbreak. It’s about love.
Carrie’s taken care of her for the last three weeks, and she deserves a
carefree night to celebrate her engagement to Nathan, now that his brother’s
finally home and their family is all together. “I’m fine. Don’t worry about me.
It’s going to be great.”

“Yeah, but also kind of weird, in a way.”
Carrie shrugs her shoulders, a flicker of uncertainty flashing in her eyes.
“Having our families get together and make the final plans for the wedding
makes it real. It seemed so far away, and now it’s almost here.”

“You’re not getting cold feet, are you?”

“No, not that. It’s just…now I’ll be a
grown-up.”

She smiles at the thought of Carrie as a
wife, maybe even a mother someday soon. How ironic their roles have reversed.
In the past, her sensibility balanced out Carrie’s wildness. Now, Carrie’s the
one settling down and building a family, and she’s blowing in the wind, needing
her best friend to tether her down again. “Um, I think you already are.”

“You know what I mean. A married woman
makes it official.”

“Nathan’s a good man. He’ll be the
perfect husband, and you’ll be an okay wife.”

Carrie swats at her with a sweat towel.
“Hey!”

“Just kidding. You’ll be a great wife.
You guys are meant for each other.”

“Thanks.” Carrie runs her hands over her
hair before putting one on top of the other. Her nervous tell gives away her
plotting. “Maybe you need to think about it for yourself. Evan’s a good guy
too. He still loves you.”

And there it is. Carrie’s probably bitten
her tongue all this time, waiting for the right moment to bring it up. No one
supports her being with Nick. Not even Nick himself, so it’s almost unanimous.
“It’s too soon.” She takes a deep breath, trying to keep the lump in her throat
from growing. “Besides, I still love Nick.”

“It’s been almost a month, and you
haven’t heard from him. Maybe it’s time to move on.”

The patio door slides open, and Nathan
sticks his head out. “Carrie, the alarm on your phone keeps beeping. Do you
want me to turn it off?”

Carrie squeezes her hand. “No, we’re
coming.”

Inside her bedroom, Shae sinks down onto
her favorite comforter and squeezes the pillow. “I can’t look. Will you please
do it?”

She takes a deep breath as Carrie nods
and walks into the bathroom, seeking the result that determines the course of
her future. Either answer ensures her heartache, although at this moment, she
doesn’t know which one is worse. Her heart flip-flops at Carrie’s smile through
tears in the doorway.

“I’m going to be an aunt.”

Emotions spin in her stomach like a
windmill as Carrie wraps her arms around her. Joy. Terror. Love. Doubt. Guilt.
Two times. Two times they forgot, too caught up in their passion to think about
anything beyond that moment, both fearful their relationship was ending.
Instead of breaking up, they created a permanent connection. Forever linked to
the man who doesn’t want her or the baby he doesn’t even know he’s going to
have. Yet, she’s never wanted anything more.

“What are you going to do?”

Carrie’s question pulls her out of her
thoughts. “Make a doctor’s appointment.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Try and figure out a way to tell him so
he doesn’t go over the edge.”

Her eyes fill with tears as Carrie
squeezes her tighter. “He’ll be happy. I know it.”

No, he’ll hate himself even more than he
already does. Worrying about her safety drove them apart. Now, she provides him
with yet another layer of guilt to add to the burden he already carries.

“Hurry up, you guys,” Nathan calls from
the kitchen. “We’re leaving in an hour.”

Shae steps back from Carrie and forces
herself to smile. “You’ve got to get ready. You can’t be late for your own
party.”

“You don’t have to pretend with me. I
know you’re upset.”

“I’m okay. I just need to let it sink in
a little. Tonight’s a special night. Let’s focus on that, and we’ll talk more
when we get home.”

Throwing her shoulders back, Carrie
conveys a confidence she wishes she could emulate. “Everything’s going to be
fine. We’re in this together.”

She refuses to let her drama interfere
with her best friend’s happiness. “Always.”

At the restaurant, their group fills a
long table. Multiple generations of family and friends brought together by the
optimism of a new beginning. Carrie and Nathan take their places at the center
of the festivities while Evan sits next to the only empty seat. He stands as
she walks closer, his wrinkled forehead contrasting with his smile. At least
she’s not the only one who feels awkward.

He tips his head toward hers as he pulls
out the chair for her. “It’s good to see you.”

Yes, she can do this. Push all thoughts
of Nick and their impending conversation out of her head. Carrie deserves her
full attention and best behavior. “Thanks. You too.”

Relief fills his brown eyes as his smile
brightens. “Congratulations on the movie. Carrie said it’s been number one four
weekends in a row.”

“Thank you. We had a lot of fun, and I
think it shows.” Heat races up her cheeks from him scanning her face, as if
searching for answers to questions he’s not asking. She struggles to keep the
conversation casual. This isn’t the time or place to dwell on old or new
wounds. “How have you been?”

“Good. My practice is full now, and I
finished our—” He shakes his head before running his hand across his black
hair, now close cropped on the sides and slightly spiked on the top. Redness
creeps from his cheeks to his faint widow’s peak. “Sorry, old habits die hard
and all that. I mean, the remodeling is all done.”

Bittersweet memories float through her
mind at the mention of the house. Lying in his arms after they made love for
the first time, he’d shared with her all his plans. Updating the kitchen,
adding a game room to the basement, installing an in-ground pool—he wanted to
create an ideal family home. She couldn’t help but laugh at his enthusiasm for
doing most of the work himself. What does a pediatrician know about
construction? But he insisted it would make it truly theirs. Finding her lips,
he whispered against them, “Marrying you will make everything perfect.”

Their only argument had been over his
refusal to add a small recording studio. Old-fashioned in his manners and
beliefs, he dissuaded her from “being distracted with her music while at home.”
In his mind, her career was a temporary dalliance until she assumed the real
job of wife and mother. “You really don’t even need to work at all, do you? You
know I’ll always take care of you” had been his response when she rolled away,
disappointed he didn’t understand her need to forge her own identity.