Discovering Truths by B. Benfield (book series to read .TXT) 📗

Obviously she needed to consult with her husband. He actually gave a crap about her. What was that like?

Melinda: Jon is down. Since I’m going out, he’s going to go out with his brother. He said he’ll drop us off. Get ready!

Not only did I now have plans, but I didn’t have to worry about driving. Bring on the fun.

***

“This is why I don’t drink! Melinda! Why did you let me drink this much?” I yelled to my friend who was sitting right beside me. We started with dinner and one drink, then migrated down the street to a bar, where I had now lost count of how many drinks I’d consumed. Between the shots and the mixed drinks, I was done. Needless to say, I didn’t drink often.

“I didn’t shove them down your throat, babe, that was all you.” She said. She was feeling good, but was nowhere near my level of intoxication.

“Feels so good to be out, though. Gosh I needed this,” I said, downing my drink. I didn’t even remember what it was called—some fruity concoction. “Hey, will you get that guy to give me another one of these?” I asked, raising the glass.

“I don’t think you need anymore.”

“Don’t be lame…it’s only like what, eleven o’ clock?” I slurred.

“It’s midnight.”

“Still! That’s early!”

“One more drink,” she said. “Then we’re going home.”

“Alright, alright, Mom. I’m going to the potty. Get that dude.” I reminded her.

I grabbed my purse and slung it over my shoulder then pushed through the crowd of people to the bathroom. I felt normal, but I was sure my steps were a little wobbly.

Once in the stall, I plopped down on the toilet and pulled my phone from my purse.

Me: I don’t think I can do this with u anymore. My feelings are too strong. I don’t want to get hurt. I have to protect myself. Hope u can understand that. Also, tequila is bad.

I wasn’t sure what prompted me to send that message to Gage. I just felt like it was the right thing to do. I used the bathroom, washed my hands, then stumbled back to our table.

“You alright?” Melinda asked when I sat down. My girly drink was waiting and I took a long sip.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I just sent him a message.”

“Who?”

“Gage.”

“The car guy? The guy?”

“Yes. Him.”

“What kind of message did you send him?”

“I told him that I can’t do this anymore. I’m really starting to feel for him, Mel. I can’t get hurt…not worse than I already am.”

“That’s probably for the best.” She said.

“Is it, though? I don’t know. Maybe things could have really gone somewhere with him.”

“Don’t you think you should get divorced first?”

“Well, yeah…but so should he.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Yeah…he’s married too. Did I leave that out?”

“Um, yes, you left that out. Abby, this is one ginormous cluster. You really do need to be done with this mess. Go about things the right way. Once you’re free and clear of Marcus, then do what you want. Live your life the way you want. But this…all this is not good.”

I stirred my drink around with the straw then took a long sip. “So stupid.”

“What’s stupid?” she asked.

“Me. Everything.”

“You’re not stupid. Don’t say that.”

I ignored her. I wasn’t sure that I could talk about it anymore. I felt physically sick and I wasn’t sure if it was from the alcohol, or this conversation.

“Did you call Jon?” I asked. I was over it. Just take me home.

“I just texted him. He’s on his way.”

He arrived a few minutes later and had to help me into the backseat of his truck. What was with these men and these tall trucks? I couldn’t handle it, especially in my current state. When he pulled in my driveway, Marcus was getting out of his car. I didn’t even tell him I was going out, so I was sure this would be a surprise.

“Want me to walk with you?” Melinda asked.

“Nope. There’s the prick now, he can help me inside.”

“Call me if you need me.” She said.

Marcus walked to the backdoor just as I was stumbling out. “Abby, are you drunk?”

“I have a buzz,” I said, draping my right arm around him. He put his arm around my waist to steady me and we walked to the front door. I watched as the headlights backed out of the driveway. Now I was alone with Marcus and I was suddenly…afraid. Afraid of his reaction…afraid of what might come next. He helped me inside, though, and didn’t say a word.

Once we made it upstairs to our room, he sat me down on the bed. “Let’s get you changed.”

I pulled off my top then fell back on the bed. I didn’t have the energy to do it.

“Are you mad?” I asked.

“I’m not mad,” he said. “I just can’t believe you’re drunk. You don’t drink.”

“Obviously. I’m really bad at it.” I couldn’t hold my eyes open. The room was spinning.

“I wish you would have told me you were going out, though.” He said. He slipped off my jean shorts and slid a cotton pair on me. He then popped off my bra and threw a t-shirt over my top.

“Why? You do whatever you want.” I said. And this was why I didn’t drink. Apparently, I had no filter.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“It means you’re out all the freaking time. If you’re not working late, it’s work dinners, or work drinks. I used to have dinner ready every night, you’d be home by six, and we’d eat together. Have you even noticed that I don’t cook half as much as I used to because when I do, I have to place