Jack passed another glass to her, but Olivia was wise enough to realise she’d had more than her limit. She placed it on the table.
“Have you ever wondered about us?” Jack asked, following her lead and pushing the glass away.
“About us?” She frowned. “You mean romantically?”
He shrugged. “Sure. Or sexually. Whatever. I mean, we have a great time together. I don’t like anyone so much as I do you. So what if we could make this work.”
She shook her head. “I just told you, Jack. I’m in love with Tamir.”
“Yes.” He linked his fingers through hers. “But you left him. Two weeks ago. And you haven’t heard a peep from him.”
That was not strictly true. She’d had one email, informing her that their marriage had been terminated. And asking her to call him. She hadn’t acknowledged him. It would only have led to more heartbreak.
“So?”
Jack shrugged. “It’s sort of obvious that he doesn’t return your feelings. Don’t you think you should move on?”
“Yes.” She nodded. “I know I should. And I will. But it’s only been two weeks.”
“Which is half the time you even knew him. Come on! It doesn’t make sense that you’re pining.”
“I’m not pining,” she huffed indignantly.
“You are.” He tapped his finger, slightly drunkenly, to her head. “But you’ll get over him. You’re a good catch. For someone else. So don’t worry about whatshisname.”
She nodded, though his words didn’t ring remotely true. “Thanks, Jack. And you?”
He pulled a face. “Therapy. And lots of it. The thought of losing you as a friend finally got my arse into gear.” He met her eyes, his expression suddenly sombre. “The biggest risk I could take in my life is losing you.”
She felt a small bubble of pleasure in the midst of the darkness that was her life. “You’re not going to lose me. I know what you’ve been through.” She stabbed a finger towards his heart. “And I know you’re a good guy. You just have to know it.”
“I’m working on it.”
Their nachos arrived, but Olivia wasn’t sure she could even look at them. “Jack,” she said quietly. “I don’t feel so great.”
He looked at her worriedly. “You don’t?”
“Uh uh.” She reached for her bag. “I’m going to go grab a cab home.”
“Don’t be silly. I’ll come with you. It’s my fault you can hardly walk straight.”
He was not exaggerating. Olivia hardly ever drank more than a single glass of champagne, and even then, only rarely. The several shots of tequila had made her almost immobile. He helped her towards a taxi and slid in beside her. He gave her address, then put an arm around her shoulder, to keep her propped up.
“I feel yucky.”
“I know.” Guilt washed over him. He loved her to bits. She was his best friend. But he was bad for her. Hell, he’d got her drunk in an attempt to help her feel better, and now Jack was wondering if he shouldn’t be taking her to a hospital. “Are you okay, princess?”
She nodded. “Don’t call me that.”
“Okay.” He squeezed her shoulder, and looked outside anxiously, waiting for the car to come to a stop outside her apartment. Her mother was still at the plush institution Tamir had arranged. And no way was Jack going to leave her alone after he’d force fed her so much booze.
He handed the cabbie a wad of notes and helped Olivia from the cab. “Come on, baby,” he murmured, guiding her up the stairs. He had to use his whole body to help her, and then to keep his arm propped around her waist as he slid her key from her jeans and pushed it into the lock. Finally, the security door gave, and he was able to hook his arm around her waist and propel her forward, up the stairs and into her flat.
“Liv,” he laughed, “You’re really drunk.”
“No shit,” she groaned, slipping out of her coat and almost falling over in the process.
Despite the seriousness of the situation, Jack smiled. “Let me help you.” He was in the process of unhooking her buttons when the door literally flew open.