Page 105 of Beautiful Trauma

Sixty-Three

Sergio

I sat down at an empty table, watching the remaining wedding guests dance and mingle. My mind was upstairs with Cee. The longer I was away from her—and it had only been ten minutes—the more I worried. I worried if she was okay. Kissing me was a big step for her. And what did it mean? Was she thinking of me like that? As more than a friend and a fuck buddy?

Or did I just want it so much that I was imagining the gravity of this kiss? No, she said she wanted to ‘take this slow,’ which had to mean she wanted it to be more than it had been.

Me: You okay?

I waited for her to respond, but the message remained unread for a few minutes, and it made me nervous. She’s probably asleep, I tried to reason with myself. But really, I had just left her room, and that was unlikely. But maybe Wyatt woke up, and she was busy calming him back down.

“We’re headed to our room,” Silas said, taking my focus off of my phone. He had tucked Elle into his side, and both were clearly drunk.

“Yeah, I’ll probably head up soon, too. Looks like you have your hands full.” I nodded in Elle’s direction.

“One of us thought she could out-drink Tom,” Silas chuckled.

I let out a laugh. “Has she not been paying attention on tour? That guy does nothing but shots all night, and it barely fazes him.”

“Apparently not. Can you make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid?” He handed me a cell phone. “He was going to call Maddie.”

“Maddie? I didn’t think they had spoken since the break-up a years ago.”

“I don’t think they have, but he was mumbling something about calling her, and I didn’t want him regretting it in the morning.”

I nodded as my phone buzzed in my hand.

Cee: Yes?

Me: Regrets?

Cee: About the kiss? No. None.

I felt myself beam. “You good, buddy?” Silas asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Oh my God, tell me it isn’t my sister,” Elle slurred.

I winced. “That is none of our business,” Silas said, kissing the top of her head. “I’m going to get her to bed. See you.”

I waved to them as they left, glancing back down at my phone.

Me: Sweet dreams, beautiful.

I tucked my phone into my pocket and made my way over to Tom. “I heard you went shot for shot with the boss lady.”

“She lasted way longer than I thought she would,” he said, not looking up from the bar.

“You want this back?” I held up his phone.

“It doesn’t matter. She blocks my calls anyway.”

“Go home and win back your girl, man. You’ve got a month.” I put the phone down on the bar beside him.

“She doesn’t want someone who is on the road.”

“So, stop being on the road.” The solution seemed simple to me.

He looked up. “I don’t want to bail on everyone.”