“We were,” he hesitates on the word were.
“It was so fucking painful to love you.” It hurts as much to say it. “It was more painful to leave you. God, I was so dedicated to you.”
He’s silent, patient. Something he’s always been with me—waiting for me to wise up to my own body, to my own emotions. The haze of alcohol and blur of lights mix with the increase in my heart rate. I shouldn’t be saying any of this. Then I think of my mother. Distant. Protected. Guarded.
In her image I see myself.
“Brigitte,” Xan say pleading, but I’m not sure if it’s to stop or keep going. I’m lost in his gaze and I surrender to the gravity. I stop fighting it.
My lips find his like a magnet, slow and steady and then snap sharply into place. He matches my force, cupping my cheeks in his hands and opening to me. A fever for him turns me delirious and desperate. I scramble across the bench straddling his lap and wrapping my arms around him. His fingers slip under my shirt, digging into the flesh of my hips, but he doesn’t pull me closer. He separates us with one sharp movement. Lifting me off him and setting my feet to the ground.
“Goddammit, Briggs.” His voice is angry and my heart sinks to my toes. As soon as he looks at me his entire body shifts and softens, he reaches for me, but I flinch away. Even through the thick fog of drunk, I know what I did is stupid. Reckless.
“I’m so sorry,” I say my stomach lurching as I back into the counter.
“You’re drunk. I can’t. Not like this,” he says as a violent pain in my stomach gave me a warning.
I spin fast and vomit into the sink.
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