Faking Forever (First Wives #4)(19)

“Someone you owe fifty bucks. I can’t believe you let this drunk walk on the beach alone.”

“Shannon?”

“Yup, it’s me. Babysitting your baby brother at your hotel restaurant bar. But my shift is about done and I’m not going to lug this guy to his room.”

She heard Justin muffle the phone and shout out to others in the background. “We’ll be right there.”

She put the phone aside but considered taking a few pictures of Victor facedown on the bar. If Avery were there, Shannon was pretty sure the night wouldn’t end without a few embarrassing photos to look at in the future.

Justin showed up with Victor’s two friends. They shook their heads as they marched toward her.

“We’ve been looking for him for the past half hour.”

“I would think a bar would be the first place you’d check.”

Justin ran a hand through his hair. “He was pretty sloshed. I didn’t see him looking for more booze.”

She waved at the empty glasses. “You guessed wrong.” With a long stretch, she stood and patted Justin’s back. “Good luck with that one in the morning. Ending the night with mezcal leaves a nasty taste the next day.”

Justin stared down at his brother. “Thanks for keeping an eye on him.”

“I’m a team player.” She looked to the other guys. “If my friends were here, they’d be taking pictures. Just a suggestion.”

That’s all she needed to say, and the phones came out.

On her short walk to her room on the opposite side of the hotel, Shannon lifted her chin. It felt good, a little vindictive, even, to know Victor would wake up with a nasty hangover. She might even send over a Bloody Mary as a peace offering.

Nawh . . . let him figure out his own cures.

Because in all the things Victor had said that night, what he failed to proclaim was any love for his former fiancée.

Corrie was right in running off, and even if Victor didn’t realize it yet, he was lucky she did.

If anything Shannon had said to the former would-be bride made Corrie flee, then Victor should be thanking her for all the money he didn’t have to part with after the divorce.

She doubted that would ever happen, the thanking thing. In fact, she was fairly certain the man’s lips would curse her as soon as he realized she’d happily fed more fuel to his already drunk body.

Those were curses she could live with.





Chapter Seven

Something crawled in Victor’s mouth and died.

The ceiling fan spun in slow circles over his head, moving air gently around the room.

In careful measures, he scanned the room and his body from head to toe. With each beat of his heart, a solid knock hit his temples . . . hard! The pasty film on the roof of his mouth contributed to the aforementioned death inside. His dress shirt was bunched up around his shoulders, with several buttons missing from the fabric. He was still in his dress pants. The bottoms were damp, and he didn’t have any socks or shoes. Rolling over on the bed, he saw his wallet and cell phone on the nightstand, but no evidence of his shoes on the floor. A vague memory of throwing them in the ocean sometime the previous night surfaced. It was one of those “screw the world, I’ll be a beach bum” moments.

He forced his body into a sitting position and smacked his lips together in an attempt to find some moisture.

Beside his bed was a bottle of water and a small package of headache medicine, along with a note. Call me when you’re awake. Justin.

He tore open the packet and washed the sour pills down. He hit the bathroom and then stood over the sink, watching the water run down the drain.

Corrie bailed.

Left him at the last possible minute without one word.

Victor shrugged his shirt off, tossed it in the corner of the bathroom, and walked back to the bed. Sitting on the edge, he looked at his phone.

It was still early. Eight o’clock was entirely too early to wake up after the binge he’d managed the night before.

A text from his mother had come through at six. His parents were on their way to the airport, said Justin was staying an extra day to make sure he was okay, and that if he needed them, to call before they boarded the plane and they’d come back.

He fired off a quick note telling them he was okay and that he’d call them later that week.

Other than his mom, his phone was painfully silent.

No word from Corrie. He’d be damned if he would text or call her first.

No messages from his extended family who had shown up to witness his humiliation. Nothing.

Arwin and Kurt where probably still sleeping, and Justin was probably piling in breakfast.

Victor plugged his phone in to charge and headed to the shower.

Twenty minutes later, he found his brother in the hotel restaurant, sitting in front of an empty plate and a cup of coffee.

When Justin saw him, he put his phone down. “I didn’t expect to see you until noon.”

Victor pulled out a chair. “I won’t be running any marathons this morning, that’s for sure.”

Justin laughed. “I’m glad to see you up.”

“I’m a little surprised I’m vertical. I don’t remember going to bed.”

“That’s too bad. The strippers we hired were top-shelf.”

Victor narrowed his eyes. “Yeah, right.”