Tipsy

Twelve

Chapter Twelve

Mikah

Our last day in Cancun came with rain... lots of it. Anything beach-related was off the table. I'd already packed for the flight home later that afternoon, attempted to tap into my book again with no use, and showered. And by showered, I mean I stood in the shower, letting hot water scold my skin as I replayed every damn second of the night before.

Hallie?

I kept sighing every time her name ran through my head. What the hell was I thinking? With my dick, clearly. And while I knew this would be a hookup linked to some major regret—since we still lived together and basically hated each other's existence—it didn't stop me from stroking my cock as I thought about our elevator ride.

It was the thong that set me off. I pulled it from my pocket as I packed away my rental suit, and the torn fabric was all it took to require a cold shower—but I didn't want to end the hard-on. I wanted to use it with her, and that was a problem. A big one.

I forced myself to stop—exactly what I didn't want to do this morning. I wanted to finish to the thought.

Now I was heading to breakfast, unsure of where her head was at this completely fucked situation we'd put ourselves in. Thankfully, the table was busting with conversations of the night before, especially when it came to Sloan and Ollie announcing they were expecting. Hallie was deep in conversation with Kit and Sloan as I took the spot beside Ollie, across from our mother.

"You look exhausted," Ollie said as I reached for the carafe of ice water. "Wasn't the point of this vacation for you to rest?"

"Thought it was to watch your ass get married."

"Mikah, language," Mom scolded.

It was nothing she hadn't heard from my mouth before, but I thought I caught Hallie snicker at my reprimanding. I sent a firm glare in her direction before clearing my throat to regain Ollie's attention. Yesterday had came and went so fast, my plan to bring up brewing was never brought up.

"I thought we could talk about Mulligan's for a few minutes."

Ollie shoveled a pile of eggs into his mouth and lifted a brow. He swallowed. "Why? This is vacation. This isn't about the menu again, is it? It's making more money that it ever has..."

"No." My head shook. "It's about the bar."

Ollie looked less than enthused to be discussing the part of the business he held no love for. If he had his way, the menu would consist of nothing but wines meant for pairing.

"I was thinking..."

But just as I began the spiel I had recited in my head no less than a thousand times, the rest of the wedding crew joined the table. Ollie's attention was lost to more congratulations on a beautiful wedding and news of a new Mulligan baby. With a heavy sigh, I reached for my water, wishing it was anything stronger. From across the table, my mother offered a closed-lip smile, one attempting reassurance that, in time, I could try sharing my ideas for the family business. This was clearly not the correct time to bring it up.

The trip was backfiring. My discussion of brewing was now on the back burner, Kit and I never got to finish our conversation of the inappropriate therapist relationship I was funding, and somehow, I'd made my roommate situation even worse. All I had to do was fuck two women and Hallie's ass would have been booted. But no, I made her one of them. I was more than happy to play this little game of nothing happened last night, but it didn't solve the issue of the apartment.

With the table ablaze in discussions I was not apart of, I silently finished my breakfast and stared out at the open ocean, watching the rain maintain an empty beach. A bummer for our last day—we were down to hours before we'd be leaving for the airport.