Dylan groaned, set aside his glass, and stood. “Look on the bright side, buddy. An annulment means no wifezilla ordering you around.”
Alicia swatted him as he passed her on his way to the door. “I wouldn’t have to order you around if you did things right the first time. I swear,” she said to Reece. “I gave him a list. How do you screw up a list?” Then, noticing the bottle of Maker’s Mark on the coffee table, she clucked her tongue and scooped it up. “Drowning yourself in alcohol will not solve anything. You should go talk things out with Shelby.”
“We’re past the point of talking things out.”
“Men.” Alicia shook her head and turned to go back into the kitchen. “If you want something to drink, I’ll make you coffee.”
Reece winced. Coffee didn’t sound any more appealing than the alcohol had, but he didn’t want to be an ungracious guest. It was bad enough he was being a mopey guest. “Thank you. I’d love some.”
Once he was alone, he sat back in his seat and scrubbed his hands over his face. Coming here had been a mistake, but going to Cam and Eva’s house was out of the question and his other brothers…yeah, he didn’t want to talk to them, either. What he really wanted was to be alone so he could stew in his anger without interruption.
He should get a hotel for the night.
Actually, the more he thought about it, the better he liked the idea of anonymous, impersonal solitude.
Yeah, as soon as Dylan came back, he’d make his excuses and take off.
Alicia returned from the kitchen with a mug and pushed it into his hand. “Drink. Coffee always makes everything better.”
He obligingly took a sip, and she smiled, but there was a slight strain to it, a tightness that wasn’t normally there.
She touched his shoulder. “I’m sorry.”
He mustered up a hint of a smile in return and covered her hand with his. “I’ll be okay.”
She turned away fast and hurried toward the kitchen. “I need to finish a few things in here, then I’ll come sit with you.”
Before he could protest, she was gone. He heard dishes clinking, water running, and the sounds were soothing. Normal. He nearly fell asleep sitting there, listening to her fix dinner.
He yawned. Hadn’t realized how exhausted he was until he had a few minutes alone. Drifting, he didn’t know how much time had passed before she came back with her own mug of coffee and curled up in the seat her husband had vacated.
“Okay, Reece,” she said. “Talk to me.”
He shook himself awake and took another gulp of his cooling coffee. Although he’d known Alicia since college, they’d never before had this kind of personal conversation, and the thought of doing so now had him shifting uncomfortably in his seat. “Uh, you don’t have to—”
“I have nothing to do until Dylan brings me my tomatoes, and I know you guys don’t talk, not really. It’s all”—she deepened her voice and did a fair intimation of her husband—“‘Hey, man, relationship problems suck. Let’s drink and pretend nothing’s happening. Maybe bump shoulders in a manly show of support before the big game starts.’”
Reece laughed and it was genuine, if not a little weak. “What big game? And since when have either of us cared about sports?”
“Yes, you’re right. With you two, you’re more likely to bury yourselves in work.” She sighed, sipped her own coffee. Which reminded him he was still holding his mug, and he drank, too.
“Not that I’m any better,” she added, setting her coffee aside. She sat forward in her chair and scanned his face. “Which is exactly why I’m going to ask about the deal with Irving James. I received a request from his accountant for our books.”
His temples started pounding in tune with his heart. He took another fortifying gulp of coffee. “I’m sorry, Alicia. Work is the absolute last thing I want to talk about right now.”
She said nothing for a moment, then stood. “It’s a bad idea.”
“What is?”
“The deal with James. I’ve told you that from day one.”
He opened his mouth to tell her there was no longer a deal, but his tongue felt too big for his mouth. The room started to tilt-a-whirl around him and he tried to get up, but couldn’t find his feet.
Alicia stepped around the coffee table and took the mug from his numb fingers. “I really didn’t want it to come to this. The blackmail should have been enough.”
“W-Wha…?” Even to his own ears, he sounded unintelligible.
“C’mon. Let’s get you into the bathroom before Dylan gets home.” She slid an arm around his waist, wedged a shoulder under his armpit, and lifted him. He tried to push her away, fight her, but none of his limbs were responding to his commands. He had two fucking black belts and he could do nothing but stumble along beside her and try to keep his head upright.