“It can’t be fixed,” I whispered as Callum slapped my shoulder in greeting.
“My God, Tom. I’ve found it very difficult to handle these women without you. We’ve taken a vote. You can’t leave again.”
This made me smile but it was unpracticed and he could tell something was wrong.
“You’ve been dumped,” he said.
Harper approached our little pow-wow and grabbed her husband’s hand, making my chest constrict at the idea that January and I could have been just like them. Perfect.
“You have?” Harper yells, before bringing her voice back down. “What the devil, Tom? Seriously?”
“Yeah, I have.”
Cherry wound her arm through mine and brought me close to her side. “We’re going to fix it, Tom.”
She said it so confidently, I almost believed her.
“Yes,” Harper agreed just as strongly. “It must be a mistake. Thomas Eriksson doesn’t get dumped. Girls should clamor in line to be with you.”
I smiled at her but couldn’t answer. Truth be told, I’d buried myself the second I didn’t trust January the way she deserved to be. I let my old cynical self take over and although I promised her I’d be good to her, I’d failed her.
Callum looked on his wife and kissed her temple. You could tell he was proud of her, of her loyalty. She was amazing. All the girls were. I’d need them to help me survive.
“Enough about me, lovelies. This is Kelly’s day. Let’s not detract from her.” I was obviously deflecting and they knew it but decided to let it go...for then.
The ceremony was beautiful as was the bride. I reveled in the fact that six months prior I wouldn’t have even considered showing up the day of the wedding, let alone being lovesick, for real, for an entirely different girl. I laughed to myself as I gazed on Kelly walking down the aisle and felt nothing more than admiration for a very good friend. Then I thought of January and imagined it was her timing her steps on the arm of her father. That idea sent a new wave of hurt to emanate through my chest and heart.
That was the moment I knew January should have been my very own bride. The thought of her marching toward another made me queasy and I had to grip the pew in front of me for support.
The next night, we all sat around Cherry’s deck. (Charlie’s apartment was now known as Cherry’s. That’s always how those things go, I think.) We were all drinking, except for Carter and Kelly of course, as they’d left for Fiji that morning. I couldn’t help but feel a small sense of peace around my extended family. Harper sat on Callum’s lap as they laughed as some private joke. Charlie slowly danced with Cherry. Marty, Aaron, Nat, Jared and Josiah all sat around singing, passing a bottle of wine around. Freddy, Sam, Cross and SO were inside playing a serious game of Scrabble.
I wasn’t happy, but I was as close as I was going to get to feeling a semblance of normality. Yeah, in order for you to avoid going over the deep end, dude, you’re going to have to move in with your married friends. You’re fucking pathetic.
A buzzing, ringing sound interrupted my thoughts. My phone. I barely recognized the ringtone; I hadn’t used it in so long. I dug it out of my pocket and pulled down my hoodie to answer, not bothering to check who it was.
“Hello?” I asked.
“Yo, it’s Jason.”
“Hey, J. What are you up to?”
He sighed. Not a good sign. “Nothing, man. I just needed to talk to you. Are you at Cherry’s?”
“Shit. Just say whatever it is you have to say.” My gut clenched in preparation.
“I’d really feel better if-”
“Jason, don’t effing make me wait. Just spit it out.”
“They gave Jonah the position.”
Of course they did.
“I see.”
“There were a lot of deciding factors-”
“Cut the bullshit, Jason. You and I are friends, good friends at that. No need to give me the whole song and dance after ten years. Now come over and pick me up. We’re going out. And bring a bottle of Jack for later.”
When you can’t have what you want, drinking always helps...kind of. Not really. But who the hell cares.
I kissed the girls goodbye when Jason rang me from downstairs. “Bye, Cherry Bomb,” I said to her at the door, but she pulled me in for a last minute pep talk.
“Don’t do anything stupid, Tommy Boy. You’ll regret it and you’ll spin down a shame spiral the likes of which we’ve never seen. I know you, and right now, you’re hellbent on causing irreparable damage. Just stop and think, baby.”
“I’ll try, Cher,” I said, kissing her forehead but even I knew that was a lie.
I took the stairs to the lobby and hopped in the cab with Jason. “Let’s get shitfaced.”
“Just what the doctor ordered,” Jason said, pulling out a bottle of Jack from the floorboard. “Let’s drop this off at my pad and then hit the city.”
After dropping the liquor off at Jason’s, we headed to Soho.
“Let’s make some bad decisions,” Jason said, clapping his hands together as we took two stools at the bar.
“Yeah,” I said, feeling uncomfortable already. I needed to drown that feeling out pronto.
“What’ll it be?” the bartender asked.
“Scotch, McEwan's,” Jason said, ordering for me.
“No!” I protested, an image of January in Dublin coming to the front of my mind. “No.” I cleared my throat. “Uh, two shots of Patron, please.”
The bartender nodded.
Six shots later and I was starting to lose sensation in my gums. This was a good thing. I needed to forget, needed the torn and gaping hole in my effing chest to feel numb. Jason was dancing with a girl on the other side of the bar and all I could think was that I needed to keep drinking.