Finding Focus (23 page)

I have no idea where she gets all that shit, but every once in a while, something she’s told me over the years comes back to me, and it suddenly makes sense. Like now. I think what she was trying to tell me was if you really care about someone, you have to be patient. If I would’ve rushed things with Dani, I could’ve messed everything up. Lying here beside her, I realize I’m okay with just
being
next to her. Of course, I want her, but I’ll take
this
over anything that doesn’t include her and me in the same room any day.

For a while, I just watch Dani sleep, brushing the hair away from her face and memorizing each freckle on her nose and cheekbones.

Sometime later, a phone ringing wakes me. I’m completely disoriented at first, forgetting where I am, but once I’ve taken in my surroundings and find Dani’s phone where I left it charging, I see it’s Piper calling.

“Hey, Piper. This is Micah Landry,” I say, trying to clear the sleep from my voice.

“Well, butter my butt and call me a biscuit. That’s one sexy southern drawl you have there, Micah. What the hell are you doing answering Dani’s phone?”

I manage to hold in the sound, but my laughter still shakes the bed, so I climb off and sit in the chair by the window, not wanting to disturb Dani.

“Spoken like a true southerner. I almost couldn’t tell you’re a Yankee.”

“Ha ha. Answer my question.”

Damn, she’s bossy
.

“Well, she’s sleeping right now. I heard her phone ringing, saw it was you, and decided to answer it.”

“But
why
are you there . . . or is she in Louisiana?”

“I flew up here to help Dani for a couple days.” I choose my words wisely, not wanting to say anything Dani wouldn’t want me to.

“Help her do what?” she asks, and I pick up a bit of sadness and maybe some jealousy in her tone.

“She’s just going through something right now and I wanted to help her.”

“I’m sure you did.” Her words are clipped and she huffs into the phone. “Why didn’t she call me?” There it is—that girl jealousy thing. Why do they have to be so damn sensitive? Deacon and Tucker would never pull this shit. If things were reversed and Dani was back in Louisiana helping me and they found out, they’d be buying her beers for taking care of shit so they didn’t have to.

“Look, Piper, I know Dani’s your best friend, but she has her reasons for not calling you first. She asked me not to say anything, so I’m not going to. She’ll tell you when she’s ready.” I try to be as diplomatic as possible and hope like hell I don’t piss her off.

She’s quiet for a minute, and I brace myself for the ass chewing I assume is coming my way.

“Very good, Micah Landry. You’ve passed Round Two,” she says with satisfaction.

“Round Two?” I ask, confused.

“It is the duty of a girl’s best friend to test potential boyfriend material on her behalf.”

Oh, shit.

“What was Round One?”

“You’re not Graham Harrison.”

I laugh into the phone and lean back in the chair.

Have I mentioned I like her?

“Listen, I’ve gotta go,” she says. “Can you have Dani call me when she wakes up? If I don’t hear from her, I’ll call her back tomorrow.”

“Will do.”

“Oh, and Micah . . . take care of our girl.”

There it is again
—our girl.

Sheridan

MY BODY IS AWAKE, BUT
I’m afraid to move. I want to stay wrapped in this nice, expensive duvet all day, but I know I can’t. Last night wasn’t really my version of fun. I don’t usually drink myself stupid, but it kept me from thinking about Graham, and for that, I’m grateful. Unfortunately, now that I’m sober, I realize I can’t avoid him forever, which means I have to start moving.

I squeeze my eyes to keep them shut, trying to will away the killer headache and bring back the dream I was just having about Micah. It felt so real. A manly groan erupts beside me, starling me.

Someone’s in my room.

Or am I in someone else’s room?

Oh, God, Sheridan. You take the phrase “go big or go home” to a whole new level.

As if getting sloppy drunk wasn’t enough . . .

Wait.

The fog slowly begins to dissipate from my brain, my thinking becoming clearer. Reality sets in, and I’m actually more embarrassed about the truth coming into focus—Micah Landry flew all the way to New York to take care of my drunk, sad ass. I threw up in front of him. I’m currently wearing his t-shirt and boxers because my clothes were covered in vomit. He’s sitting next to me in bed, I’m sure I have the worst case of bedhead ever, and don’t even get me started on the fur growing on my tongue.

This is worse than a walk of shame.

I don’t even have time to try to make myself look presentable.

I decide to pretend like I’m still asleep for a while, prolonging the inevitable, but my body revolts. I hop up and run across the room.

“Dani?” I hear behind me as I jet to the bathroom. Micah’s voice sounds concerned, but it’s not what he thinks.

“I gotta pee!”

His laugh echoes through the room, and it sounds so good. Even though I’m embarrassed by my actions that brought him here, I’m really happy he’s here. As I shut the door behind me, I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror and the sight makes me cringe. Shit. I look even worse than I feel.

I pee for forever. I don’t know how I even have this much pee in me, but just when I think it’s over, it starts back up again. When I’m finally pee-free, I wash my hands and splash water on my face, swiping away the last traces of my mascara. My hair looks like a rat is living in it, so I rake my hands through it and use the ponytail holder that’s been on my wrist for three days to pull it back off my face. Unfortunately, I don’t have a toothbrush. Fortunately, this fancy-schmancy hotel has tiny bottles filled with things other than liquor. I gargle with mouthwash for a long time, and when I spit it out, I drain the bottle and gargle again, even swallowing some of it in hopes my breath won’t smell as bad as it tasted a few minutes ago.

Before I open the door, I flip the light off and take a deep breath, leaning my head against the cool metal.

It’s not as bad as it feels.

He wouldn’t be here if he didn’t want to be here.

And then I repeat the one thing I remember him saying to me before I fell asleep:
This is what friends do.

I just need to think of him like Piper. A really hot, manly Piper.

Yeah, that doesn’t help.

I groan in frustration and crack open the door. I hear the moan again and accompanied with it, the smell of something delicious. My stomach still feels a little woozy, but I’m also starving.

Peeking my head around the corner, I see Micah propped up on the bed, making out with some sort of flaky pastry.

Fuck me.

I don’t know which one I want more—Micah or the food—so I go with the one I know won’t cause me any regrets.

“Is that a pocket?” I ask accusingly. How dare he hold out on me like that? I’m a recovering drunk who needs her grease and protein.

“Don’t get testy, Chuck,” he says, smirking with crumbs on his scruffy chin. “I brought plenty to share. Actually, they’re for you, but you slept so long, I got hungry.”

My embarrassment forgotten, I plop down on the bed. “Gimme.”

“So demanding. I’m glad to see you’re feelin’ better.”

He pulls out another flaky pocket and wraps a napkin around the bottom. When I reach for it, he pulls it close to his chest, causing me to fall forward. We’re so close, our noses are practically touching. I’ve never been this close to Micah Landry. The proximity makes me swallow hard, trying to focus on the task at hand—pockets. That’s what I’m after, right?

“Say please.” His voice is low, and he doesn’t make an effort to put any space between us.

“Please.” The word leaves my mouth, but I’ve already forgotten what I’m asking permission for. Is it the lips centimeters from mine or the food Micah is holding out of reach? Well, I
could
reach it, but then I’d be on top of him and that isn’t very conducive to keeping things platonic.

“Please what?” he asks. The semi-dazed expression on his face matches how I feel inside and I wonder if he feels it too.
It
being this pull between us, like two magnets—my north to his south.

One second, he’s staring longingly at my lips, but the next, he’s backing away from me and shoving a pocket in my hand, all the rouse of teasing nowhere to be found.

“Eat.”

“Now who’s being demanding?” I grumble.

He laughs again, shaking his head.

My attention is quickly diverted to the food in my hands. I eyeball it like I’m on death row and it’s my last request, or like a girl who hasn’t had a real meal in two days. The first bite has me mimicking Micah’s moans from a few minutes ago. “So fucking good,” I say around a mouthful of food, not caring about manners or impressing anyone. Besides, I’m sure whatever damage can be done is done. He saw me throw up. It doesn’t get much worse than that. “Thank you,” I tell him when my mouth isn’t so full. I make eye contact with him so he knows I mean for more than this amazing pocket. “For everything.”

He nods and smiles, looking down at the bag in his lap and pulling out another pocket for himself. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think there’s a slight blush on his cheeks, but the scruff is camouflaging it. And Micah Landry doesn’t blush.

“What’s in here?” I ask, practically inhaling the deliciousness in my hand.

“Boudin.”

“I think it’s my new favorite.”

“You’d eat a pig belly pocket right now.”

I laugh and chew at the same time. “True.”

I lean back against the headboard next to him and we eat in comfortable silence. My mind drifts to Graham, but I don’t even feel sad anymore. I’m still pissed, I’d still like to cut his balls off, but I’m not sad.

“I called down to the front desk and told them we’d be staying another night,” Micah says between bites.

“Oh, right.” I glance over at the clock and see it’s after the normal checkout time. “Damn. Sorry I slept most of the day.”

“S’okay. I figured you needed it.”

“Yeah. I mean, I slept last night, but it wasn’t good sleep.”

“Feel better now?”

“Yeah, much better, thanks to you.”

“I didn’t do anything.”

“Yes, you did. You’re here. That’s enough.”

He throws his arm around my shoulders and pulls me into his side. It’s kind of like a hug, and when he squeezes me to him, I realize I missed this. It’s the best hug I’ve had in a long time.

“Are you crying?”

“I—yeah, sorry.” I sniffle and wipe my face on the sleeve of my shirt . . . or Micah’s shirt. Whatever.

“I’m sorry, Dani.”

“No,” I say, waving my hand in the air. “It’s not what you think. These tears aren’t for Graham.”

“What are they for then?”

I sigh, unsure how to answer. “Me, I guess.” I shrug my shoulders and lay my head on his chest. He pulls me closer to him, wrapping his arms securely around me.

“Did you love him? Or do you still?”

“Yes and no.”

“Well, which is it?”

“Yes, I did love him, but I haven’t been
in love
with him for a while. And no, I don’t anymore.”

He kisses the top of my head, rubbing my arm in a soothing gesture. And it works. He’s warmth and comfort; I feel like I could melt into him.

“Well, just because you aren’t still in love with him doesn’t mean it hurts any less,” he says, his lips moving against my hair.

“Yeah. But . . . I think I was almost waiting for something to give me the green light to leave him. Half of my heart was hanging on for old time’s sake, but the other half has been gone for a long time. That doesn’t mean I didn’t feel completely crushed walking in and finding him and Kaitlyn like that.” I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from crying again. I’m done crying over Graham. “I might have to burn my bed. And I love that bed.”

Micah chuckles and tightens his hold. “We’ll get you a new bed.”

I like when he says
we
.

A knock at the door makes me stiffen. My mind starts to race with possibilities. Could Graham know where I am? Could Mr. Harrison track me down? Maybe the hotel knows I’m not really Mrs. Harrison?