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

it in the microwave because you’re never here?”

“Abby…I told you with taking over the firm, I’d be busier.”

“This started before that, Marcus.”

“Alright, I’m done talking to you. You’re drunk and I don’t want to get into an unnecessary fight.”

He was so full of himself it was unreal. He didn’t want to continue because he knew I was right and he didn’t have an explanation. That was okay, though, we didn’t have to talk about it because I knew the truth. I may have been drunk, but I wasn’t stupid. I slid to my side of the bed and went to sleep without another word.

Chapter Seventeen

 

The next morning, I awoke to the smell of bacon and coffee wafting upstairs. I pulled myself up and out of bed and made my way down. Marcus stood at the stove, placing bacon on a plate, then moving to the other burner to scramble eggs. This was a sight you didn’t see often. On the table sat a cup of coffee, glass of orange juice, water, and two Tylenol.

“Is this for me?” I asked, picking up the pills.

“Yes. Thought you might need that,” he said. “And some breakfast.”

“Well…isn’t that nice.” I said.

“How are you feeling?”

“Almost better…”

After having spent most of the night hugging the toilet, I had almost emptied everything from my system. If I could just shake the rest of this headache, I’d be as good as new. This is why I don’t drink.

Although I was drunk last night, I remembered everything that was said and done. I remembered confronting Marcus and how he totally skirted around everything, and I remembered sending Gage that message…which I now believed was a huge mistake. I dreaded looking at my phone to see his response.

“You good with me heading to the golf course today? I thought maybe I’d do that, and I’d give you my card and you could go shopping. Maybe get some more work clothes? Then we go to dinner tonight?”

He was making me breakfast, offering up a credit card, and making dinner plans. What had gotten into him? There was a big chance that the golf course wasn’t actually the golf course, so maybe he was trying to make himself feel better after all the feelings of guilt?

“Okay…that sounds good.” I replied. There was no point in asking questions or offering suggestions.

He placed a plate in front of me and I ate slowly, my stomach still sloshy from my night.

“How have you been feeling? With the chest pains and all that?” I asked.

“I’m alright. They come and go. It’s weird.”

“Hm. Wonder if that’s something you should see a cardiologist for?”

“Maybe,” he said, standing up from the table. He grabbed our plates and carried them to the sink. He hated going to the doctor, so I doubted he really would. If something serious happened, he couldn’t say I didn’t warn him. I’d grown heartless.

I let him do the dishes…it wasn’t something that happened often either. I crawled on the couch and covered up with a blanket, closing my eyes. The headache still lingered and I needed it gone. I must have drifted to sleep because soon, Marcus was shaking me lightly.

“I left my card on the counter. I’m heading out. See you later,” he said, kissing my forehead.

“Thanks. See you later.”

I pulled myself up and folded the blanket. Most of the ache had ceased, so surely after a shower, I’d be alright. I checked the kitchen counter and just as he said, a black card was there waiting for me.

I’d been avoiding my phone, but decided to finally look at it. Sure enough, a message awaited.

Gage: Clearly you were drunk last night, so I’m going to let that message slide. You’re not getting rid of me that easy.

Well, it sounded like he didn’t take me seriously. Thank goodness. I got lucky. I could have totally ruined everything with one stupid message.

Me: Hey. So. Sorry about that. I was drunk, yes.

Gage: Thought you didn’t drink often. Wasn’t that mentioned in one of our conversations?

Me: Yes…and I don’t. And clearly, I can’t handle it…which is probably why I don’t.

Gage: Were you out with him?

Me: No. I was with Melinda.

Gage: You didn’t drive, did you?

Me: No. Her husband drove us.

Gage: Good.

They say that the truth comes out when you’re drunk. Should I tell him the truth? The truth was that even though I wasn’t in my right mind, my words were sincere. My feelings were deeper than I anticipated and I wasn’t sure I could handle it.

Me: Some of what I said was true last night. I have feelings…and they scare me. It makes me nervous that I can’t continue with this. I don’t want to get hurt.

It seemed like forever as I stared at my phone, waiting patiently for a response.

Gage: I understand that. Not going to lie, I’m getting a little caught up too. I don’t want to stop things with you, but if we need to, I understand.

He was getting caught up? What did that mean? Was that his way of saying he had feelings for me too? I didn’t want to stop what we had going. I guess I was just looking for some sort of assurance that my feelings weren’t one-sided. I’d have to take his response as just that. There was no way I could let him go.

Me: I don’t want to stop.

Gage: Good. Me either.

Me: I guess I just wanted to make sure I’m not crazy.

Gage: You’re not.

Me: Good.

 

***

Generally, I hated being alone, but after my rough night and almost-scary conversation with Gage, shopping by myself was peaceful. I’d snagged a few dresses and dress pants for work, feeling accomplished. I loaded everything into the trunk and started my