Tipsy

Eighteen

⚠️ Trigger Warning: Insinuated abuse. Read with caution.

Chapter Eighteen

Mikah

After one of the longest shifts of my life, I'd never been more happy to kick off my shoes and collapse into the couch. The phones and internet were out for blocks. We could only take cash. We had a loss of communication between the hostess, servers, and the kitchen. We finally gave up and closed early.

One by one, I pulled Hallie's stupid pillows out from beneath me and threw them to the floor. I kept one to use as an actual pillow—which would have driven Hallie crazy if she were here. But the apartment was strangely quiet. I'd called out for her a few times with no answer.

She'd been avoiding me for the last week, and now we were due to go to dinner at Sloan and Ollie's place. She wasn't completely ignoring me, but I thought that getting her to open up to me would help, and now she was more distant than ever. If we were home together, she'd be sleeping. Something wasn't right, and clearly, TJ was not the problem as I thought he was. Perhaps she really was stressed and tired from school and work.

I practically melted into the couch with a sigh and inhaled a deep breath. The pillow smelled of Hallie's rainwater shampoo and was damp. It seemed I wasn't the only one using it. She'd showered for tonight, but she wasn't here. I'd figured on us leaving together. But I had no way of contacting her with the phones and internet down.

Once I'd mustered the energy needed to pry myself from the couch, shower, and grab a bottle of wine from the bar for our dinner, I checked the alleyway to see if Hallie's car was there. It wasn't. This whole being unable to contact anyone was really becoming a pain in the ass.

I arrived at Ollie's place promptly at six, parking between Sloan's car and Ollie's motorcycle. Hallie was being cursed under my breath as I approached the door. Her car wasn't here. She'd stood me up, and the last thing I wanted to do all night was hear my brother and sister-in-law picking out baby names over dinner.

Ollie awaited me from the porch, rocking a porch swing that hadn't been there the last time we visited. Every time I was here, they made it more a home. I envied it—even though I couldn't deny that Hallie's stupid pillows were growing on me. I missed having someone to come home to, which was a feeling I hadn't had in a long time. Maybe it was because my dinner date stood me up.

"No Hallie?" I asked, taking the stairs up the porch.

Ollie's head shook no. "Her mom had something come up, and asked her to come home."

It was weird to hear Ollie speak of Hallie's mom when Hallie rarely spoke of her parents. Even on Thanksgiving, she'd avoided the conversation of them. I got the impression she wasn't close to them. At least, not in the way my family once was.

"So..." Ollie used his foot to guide the swing back and forth. "What's this I hear about making Mulligan's into a brewery?"

My heart sank in my chest, and I stopped myself from moving any closer to him. We were caught in a stare-off of him waiting for me to speak, and I couldn't think of a damn thing to say. I wasn't prepared to tell him yet. The last time I thought I was, I'd rehearsed my spiel for days.

"Sloan has baby-brain. You can't tell her secrets right now."

I nodded. My fault for going to her for advice on the flavors. Flavors that were not here with me. Everything I'd made was bottled back at the apartment and of no use now. Now I was just an idiot standing here with a bottle of wine from the bar, wondering how to pitch this to him.