Wine and Whiskey (Surviving Absolution #1)

by Nikki Belaire

  The phone slides to the floor before she curls into a ball, the last flicker of optimism smothered by his accusation. The fervor of their relationship finally extinguished by her needless hesitation to tell him the truth.

  “What the hell?” Carrie’s voice comes from the doorway. “I could hear you sobbing…” The mattress dips from her friend sitting down. She picks up Shae’s cell and glides her finger across the screen, scrolling through the messages. “That son of a bitch.”

  Carrie’s fingers pound the keys. It doesn’t matter what message she sends. His came through perfectly clear.

  * * * *

  The French door creaks as Max opens it, but neither of them looks over. Nick sprawls on the lounge chair, an almost empty bottle of whiskey resting between his legs. Marta leans over him with a sandwich in her hand. “Eat and feel better. No good all drink.”

  Alcohol and mothering never mix well. He’ll be the babysitter for a while. “I’ll take over from here, Marta. Why don’t you go back inside?”

  She shakes her head and shoves the plate toward him. “I make. He no eat.”

  “I know. I’ll try in a little bit.”

  She throws her hands up in the air and mumbles under her breath as she walks away. After the door closes, he sets the food on the side table next to an unopened bottle of whiskey and Nick’s phone. He drops down in the chair facing the chaise. It’s going to be a long night.

  “Have a drink.” Nick’s words slur worse than his aim, as he pours a glass for Max, about half of the amber liquid making it into the tumbler.

  “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 fami
lies 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.

  “That’s wonderful. I’m sure it turned out beautifully. You always were good with the details, and—”

  “Excuse me, miss.” A voice behind her interrupts their discussion. “Would you prefer white or red wine?”

  “Red, please.” The automatic reply slips out before the revised response required for her new circumstances makes it from her mind to her lips. Her decisions impact two people now. “Wait, I’m sorry. Could I please have sparkling water with an orange slice instead?”

  “Very good, ma’am. I’ll bring it out.”

  “Thank you.”

  Evan raises his eyebrows before smiling at her. “What, no wine? That’s not like you.”

  She looks down and smoothes her skirt, trying to avoid his gaze. Acting is one thing, but lying has never been one of her strengths. He knows her too well and wouldn’t be fooled if she tries. “It’s no big deal. I’m thirsty and water sounds good.”

  He nods, but seems unconvinced. “So, best man and maid of honor. How did we get roped into this?”

  “Lucky, I guess.”

  “At least your title has some royal finesse to it.” He leans back in his chair and points to his chest. “I’m the best. Do you know how much pressure I’m under?”

  She giggles at his exaggerated stress. “Yes, but you don’t have to deal with girl drama. What if her hair won’t stay up, or the cake falls over? That’s all on me.”

  “Yeah, all I have to do is make sure he shows up and stands up.”

  The clinking of metal on glass ends everyone’s conversations. Nathan’s dad stands at the head of the table, his face bright with happiness. “I want to welcome everyone to…”

 
Her focus drifts to Carrie as he talks. She’s always been naturally pretty—dirty blonde with a few highlights to accent her golden streaks, blue eyes, athletic build, a genuine California girl. But, tonight, holding hands with Nathan, surrounded by their families, she absolutely glows. True love in its purest form.

  A champagne flute appears in front of her. “…so please join me in toasting Nathan and Carrie. We wish you many happy years together.”

  She raises her glass and lowers it down, almost whimpering while everyone else takes a drink. Why is it when you can’t have something, you crave it the most?

  Evan tips his head toward hers and whispers out of the side of his mouth. “Now I know something’s wrong when you don’t drink champagne. What’s going on?”

  Before she can answer, the waiter returns, standing between them. “Your host has ordered a variety of sushi and sashimi for the table. Please mark the card in front of you as to which selections you prefer.”

  She leans in close, whispering to avoid drawing attention to herself. “I can’t have anything raw. Do you have another selection available?”

  “Our special this evening is an excellent grilled salmon.”

  “Yes, please I’ll have that. Thank you.”

  Her pulse races as Evan stares at her, his brow furrowed in concentration. He starts to say something, but changes his mind. Maybe she’s safe. Then, his eyes widen as the light bulb flickers on.

  “Does he know?”

  Maybe not. Goose bumps rise on her arms. “Does who know what?”

  “Does Nick know you’re pregnant?”

  Fire races through her as she shakes her head, giving him a small smile, trying to feign innocence, hoping to squelch the certainty radiating from him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Come on, Shae. The alcohol and the sushi? I’m not stupid.”

  She grasps his arm and squeezes it. All her self-control not to melt into a crying mess rides on his cooperation. “Please don’t say anything. This is Carrie and Nathan’s night. I don’t want anything to ruin it.”