Page 51 of Winter Break Up
Sweat slicks the back of my neck as my chest rattles with something like a cough that’s trapped inside. A sick twist of my gut tells me my anxiety is creeping in, hanging like a threatening fog just far enough away from my body that I think I can beat it on my own.
My issues are my own, I know that. I know I’m making more of him talking to a woman in this bar than what’s happening in reality, but my past baggage can’t compute that. All I see in front of me is Rich and the slimy thing he did to betray me. My mind can’t separate the two.
I gulp down more of my cocktail, thinking it’ll calm me or wet my dry throat, but it does the opposite. The alcohol floats at the base of my throat, mixing with my nausea. Images float in front of my eyes, worst-case scenarios that will likely never happen, but I can’t turn them off or shut them out.
Mercer must feel my angry glare because suddenly, he’s searching the crowd until our eyes connect. I can’t help the furious raise of my eyebrows, slicked with sweat, because I can’t control my nervous system right now. Those gorgeous blue eyes cloud with confusion, and I watch as the redhead tries to put her hands on him again. This time, he’s caught off guard, too busy in a staring war with me, and her red manicure connects with one of his pecs.
Spinning, I nearly smack into a group of rowdy men dressed as Santa’s reindeer. I need air. Fresh air. Why is it that whenever I’m in bars with Mercer Russell, I need to escape immediately? The door is in sight as I almost collide with a person in a massive snowman costume, and if this were a scripted show, I’d be the butt of the joke.
The December air slaps me in the face, albeit in a good way, as I finally make it outside. The sun shines off the dusting of snow we got last night, and I shield my drunk eyes from the glare.
Sucking in a lungful, I try to calm myself down. Inhale for four seconds, exhale for four, inhale for four, exhale for four. I repeat this mantra to myself as I practice the breathing exercises I’ve read up on, and finally, my hands begin to stop tingling.
“Whatever you’re thinking, you’re wrong.”
That deep voice behind me has a laugh of hysteria bubbling from my throat.
“Isn’t that what all guilty men say?” My lips feel strange as the words come from my mouth.
Mercer gently turns me until I face him, his hands resting on the red velvet sleeves adorning my arms. “I didn’t even realize she was talking to me until halfway through the conversation. I was at the bar trying to get you a water because you said you wanted one when we made it to our last bar on the crawl.”
A flicker of realization hits me, and I remember I did say that. This morning, when we’d been walking into our first stop on the Christmas drinking tour of Queenwood. Mercer clocked that and wanted to fulfill the request for me.
“Doesn’t mean she had to have her hands all over you.” The stubbornness and delusion of my anxiety won’t let this drop.
He shakes his head. “I can’t control what other people do, but you know I wasn’t touching her. You watched me back away the first time. You, Em, are the only woman I want touching me. Tell me what’s really going on.”
“I don’t know, I’m just feeling weird.” I run my hands through my hair, trying to get out of his reach because I’m still unsure which way is up.
Mercer places two fingers under my chin so I’m forced to look at him. “Listen to me. I am not him. I will never be him. While I’m with you, while I’m the one inside you every day and night, I will never look in the direction of another woman. It’s not even a consideration in my mind. You are out of this world, Emily Palmer. The catch of all catches. I’m unworthy of even being in your presence half the time. Your anxiety has a grip on your mind right now, but you know all of this is true. I just want to make sure you’re okay. But please, trust me when I say I’m not him.”
My heart is a puddle of mush in my chest as a tear rolls down my cheek.
“No, please don’t cry.” He brushes it away.
“I’m just drunk.” I hiccup while trying to laugh it off. “And I know you’re not him. You’d never do that, I’m well aware.”
I’m also well aware that I’ve never stopped being in love with Mercer Russell. Through it all, his name has always been tattooed on my heart. It should have been clear before now, but with that little impassioned speech, he’s completely stolen it from any man who ever dares try to take it. Not that I can tell him that. We’re in this détente where we don’t talk about what real emotional feelings we have for each other. Except Mercer just threw that out the window.
“Good. Now, what do you say we get out of here? Go take a nap wrapped up in each other, wake up, and lazily fuck until the sun goes down?” Pulling me into him, those big arms wrap around my waist and sway us both in a saucy, slow seduction.
“Thank you.” I lay my cheek on his chest, ignoring his question. “My brain has a tendency to jump to conclusions these days. And those thoughts just take me the fuck out. It helps that you’re here, that you want to take care of me.”
In all the time I’ve been dealing with my anxiety issues, I’ve been reluctant to trust anyone to help. I should have known that after telling Mercer, he’d handle it with the utmost care and perfect responses. Goddamn him.
“I’d do pretty much anything for you, Emily.”
The insinuation in his tone has both glee and sadness mixing in my chest. But before I can examine it, Mercer pulls his phone from his pocket.
“I’m calling us a cab.”
“What if Gen and Charlie realize we left together?”
The frown that turns his lips down makes me feel guilty. “They’re drunk, they won’t notice.”
What Mercer doesn’t add is that it shouldn’t matter if they do. That we should stop this charade now, but I am too chicken to call us on it.
“Okay. Then yes to the nap, yes to the sex, but I want to add some ramen in there. Can we get delivery?”