of the vent while I climbed into her car and buckled my seat belt. “I’m dropping them off and going home. She’s all Casey’s tomorrow.”
I scowled at her. “I thought you were supposed to be the nice one.”
Wesley laughed. “Good night,” he said, waving as he headed back inside. “Tell Bianca I’ll call her tomorrow.”
B moaned from the backseat. She sounded like an animal who’d just been shot with a tranquilizer gun. It was the kind of noise I felt like I should be making. I felt nauseated and there was a pain in my chest. I’d only cried for a second after Toby walked out, but I’d been on the verge of tears ever since.
When we got to my house, my mom was already asleep. Somehow, Jess and I managed to drag a half-conscious Bianca up the stairs to my bedroom. That was all we could manage, though. She collapsed onto my bed and wouldn’t even move long enough to let us try and put her into her pajamas. We got her shoes and coat off, though. That was something.
Neither of us had a good night’s sleep. B tossed and turned and even got up once to throw up a little. I stayed on the other side of the bed, trying to think of anything but Toby’s hurt face before he’d left the party.
I liked him. I liked him more than I’d liked a guy in a long, long time. Maybe ever. He was nice and funny and didn’t mind that I was taller than him. I know that should have been a little thing, but it had been a big issue in the past. Toby was the best guy I’d ever dated, and I’d fucked it all up.
I decided I’d have the talk with B in the morning. Rip off the Band-Aid. But just as Wesley had promised, she had a hangover, and it was like normal cranky Bianca on steroids.
“Fuck,” she groaned with a hand on her forehead. “Why the hell did you let me drink so much?”
“You never exactly said no,” I told her, getting out of bed and heading to my closet to find clothes. “And you didn’t drink that much….”
“More than two beers is too much for me,” she mumbled. “God, Casey, will you stop making so much noise?”
“Sorry.” I shut the closet door as gently as I could. “B, I need to talk to you about something.”
“Can’t it wait? Maybe for a day when I don’t want to curl in a ball and die…. And oh my God, quit stomping! Just you walking around the room is making my head pound.”
I sighed and put my clothes on the edge of the bed. “Believe me, I wish this could wait. But—”
“Then wait,” she moaned.
B’s phone started ringing from the nightstand next to her head. She whimpered.
“You still have ‘Womanizer’ as your ringtone for him? Really?”
“I haven’t gotten around to changing it yet.” She rolled slowly and carefully onto her side and reached for the phone. For a second, I was seriously scared she was going to puke on my floor. But she didn’t. “Hey, Wesley,” she said into the phone. “What do you want?”
I changed out of my pajamas while she talked—which was mostly a series of mutters and grumbles. I’d just pulled my hoodie on when I heard her say, “Okay. Love you, too. See you in an hour.” She tossed the phone onto my side of the bed and covered her face with her hands. “Kill me.”
“I wouldn’t want to deal with the cleanup,” I said. “What did Wesley say?”
“His parents just got home. And they’ve invited me to a Christmas Eve lunch.”
“You could have said no.”
“I could’ve.” She sat up slowly, carefully. “But Wesley said they got me a gift and… I kind of should go. So he’s picking me up here in an hour. Which means I need your shower… and some coffee.”
“We don’t have any coffee.”
By the way B moaned, you’d have thought I’d just killed her beloved pet or something. I started to laugh, but she gave me a scathing look.
“Shower,” she said. “Now.”
“I’ll get you a towel.”
Once B was in the shower, I walked into the bathroom so I could brush my teeth and fix my hair. Part of me
Douglas Preston, Lincoln Child