I groaned and gripped my head. “I don’t want it for that long. Call Logan, he’s a health and fitness freak – for which we all thank him, especially when his top comes off – he’ll know some magic anti-hang over cure.”
Instead of punching me for admitting that I perv on her fiancé she laughed and rolled her eyes. “He would tell me to give you water and get you to go to sleep. I don’t think you’ll have any difficulty with the sleep part.”
Neither did I. Every step took monumental effort that I just didn’t have in me anymore. “I’m not thirsty.” Christ, I’d just drunk an entire bar.
“That’s not the point,” she said and launched me onto my bed. I bounced and rolled onto my back, watching the world take a second to catch up. “You need to hydrate your body so please stay awake long enough for me to get a glass of water down your neck.”
I saluted. “Yes, boss.”
Shaking her head in pure amusement, Chlo left my room in search of water. If my body wasn’t so heavy and I had a clue where my phone was I’d call Damon. I wanted to hear his voice whisper unspeakable things to me.
I looked around and saw that Chloe had dropped my bag on the bed too. I extended my arm but it was just out of reach. Things had started to swim and I knew it would only get worse if I moved. My late night drunken call to Damon seemed as impossible as me having a clear head in the morning.
“What are you doing?” She asked, laughing at me wiggling my fingers and willing my handbag to come closer.
“Want my phone,” I replied.
“That a good idea?”
“Why wouldn’t it be?”
“Because doing anything on your phone when you’ve had eight too many is never a good idea.”
“Ooh,” I said, pointing at her. “You’re totally right! Rule one is never use a phone drunk. Rookie mistake.”
“Okay, sweetie, sit up so you can drink this.”
I pushed myself up on my elbows and waited for the sea-like motion to stop before I fully stay up. “Thanks,” I said, taking the glass and draining every drop.
“Good girl. Now do you need help getting changed?”
“Yeah, I can’t sleep in my bra.”
She laughed. “And your dress, earrings and shoes?”
“Bra more,” I replied, tugging the hem of my dress. Chloe pulled me to my feet and assisted getting me undressed and into some pyjamas.
“Now into bed.”
I did as I was told and snuggled under my quilt. “Chloe?”
“Yeah?”
“She’s just a friend, right?”
Chlo sighed and brushed my hair behind my shoulder so it wasn’t falling in my face. “Of course she is. Get some sleep, Nelly, you’re going to feel like shit in the morning.”
“Thanks for looking after me. Sorry I got drunk.”
“No, you’re not. You asked me to get you drunk.”
“You’re right, I’m not sorry, but I am grateful for you.”
“Anytime. Love you.” She kissed my forehead, and I was drifting by the time she closed my bedroom door.
When I turned up at Mum’s for out bi-weekly dinner, Dad’s car was in the drive. My heart fell right the way down to my feet. Disappointment fizzled in my veins but I wasn’t surprised. I was never surprised but today I was too hung over to deal with it. How many times would they do this?
Damon picked a bad weekend to go away. I needed something physical and exhausting to get my mind off what was undoubtedly going on here. With shaking hands I grabbed a packet of Paracetamol from my bag and popped a couple.
Pulling myself together and praying the painkillers would kick in soon; I blinked the first signs of tears away and got out of the car. I’d reached my limit of anger when it came to my parents and their actions years ago so even though I wanted to scream at them both I knew it was pointless.
I walked in and found them in the kitchen. Mum was stirring gravy and Dad was smiling at her from the other side of the island. Dad spotted me first and pushed away from the marble worktop. Seeing them combined with the hangover, doubled the churning in my stomach.
“There’s my little Nelly,” he said, rounding the island to give me a hug.
“Sweetie,” Mum said, hugging me next.
“Hi,” I replied tightly.
I just needed to get through the next few hours and I could go home to normality. It’d be a miracle if they didn’t bicker or argue over dinner.
“What’s going on?” I asked. It was a stupid question and one I’d asked so many times I’d lost count.
Dad smiled the same way he did every time, like the cat that got the cream. “We’ve decided to give things another go. I love your mum, Nell, and we’re both determined to make it work.”
I wanted to whack them around the head with the boiling gravy pan.
“What makes you think it’ll work this time?”
“Nell,” Mum said, her tone warning.
“No, love, Nell has a right to ask questions. There’s never been anyone else for me other than your mum, you know that.”