Faking Forever (First Wives #4)(18)

“Hey, you don’t know.” His elbow slipped on the side of the bar, but he managed to correct himself and look her in the eye. “She could have told me.”

“Maybe she worried you’d talk her out of it.”

“Of course I would have. I’m a very good negotiator.”

“Is that right?”

The bartender brought their drinks, setting two shots of mezcal in front of her unexpected drinking partner.

“Then she was right to leave the way she did.”

He frowned. “Hey, whose side are you on?”

Shannon lifted her hands in the air. “I’m just the photographer. I’m not on anyone’s side.” But if she had to pick . . . Team Corrie would win.

He lifted his drink and brought it to his lips.

His expression matched how she’d felt the night before when she’d tasted mezcal for the first time.

“What the hell is that?” He set it down and stared at the oversize shot glass.

She pushed the glass closer to him. “It’s a specialty. Trust me, it gets better.”

He picked it up but didn’t taste it right away. “I’m just saying, she could have done it different.”

Shannon sipped her club soda. “According to the song, there are ‘Fifty Ways to Leave Your Lover,’” she said, remembering the lyrics.

Victor laughed, concentrated really hard for a few seconds, then said, “She just slid out the back door.”

Catching on, Shannon smiled. “Now it’s time for you to make a new plan.”

Victor hummed the chorus, and they both took turns butchering the lines to the song.

The bartender chuckled at their barroom singing.

They finished the chorus laughing.

Victor tipped the rest of his shot back, squeezed his eyes, and shook his head several times. “You’re right,” he squeaked out. “Not that bad the second time.”

Those wouldn’t be his thoughts in the morning. “I guess this means you’re going home early.”

He took a lazy look around the bar. “No reason to stay,” he said. “This might come as a surprise to you, but I don’t vacation well anyway.”

She mustered up the best look of sarcasm she could. “You don’t say?”

His scowl was lost with the half-mast eyes and his elbow sliding off the bar. “You know . . .” He licked his lips. “You’re bitchy.”

She placed a hand over her chest. “I don’t think anyone has ever said that to me. Coming from you, I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“It wasn’t meant as one.”

Because he had it coming, she pushed the second shot of mezcal his way. “I don’t understand why you’re still single, Victor. You talk so sweetly to the ladies.”

He slurped up the drink, hardly batted an eye. “I sh-shouldn’t be single tonight.”

“She was too young for you,” Shannon said in all seriousness.

“Did you tell her that?” Every time he blinked, it took longer for him to open his eyes.

“No.” Shannon pushed his shoulder up to keep him from falling off the bar stool. If she was less bitchy, she’d be feeding him water and maybe some coffee. Instead, she pointed to Victor’s empty glass for the bartender. He came over with the bottle and refilled it.

“Thanks.” He looked at the drink, then looked around the bar. “Everyone told me she was too young. Obviously they were right.” He waved a hand in the air. “She just slipped out the back!” He found himself funny and started laughing.

“Yeah, yeah . . . we already sang that song.”

“I had a plan.”

“Oh? What plan was that?”

“Get a wife. I mean, I’m not bad-looking. You don’t think I’m bad-looking, right?”

“Looks don’t guarantee anything.”

He lifted his glass. “I guess that’s true.”

Victor silently stared into his drink. The humor drifted away. “I have to make a new plan.”

“A backup is always a good idea.”

He sucked back his drink and closed his eyes. “I didn’t see this coming.”

For a minute, Shannon almost felt sorry for him. “I don’t think you were looking.”

He pushed the empty glass away and folded his arms on the bar, rested his head in them.

“It’s okay, Victor. I’m sure there’s someone else out there foolish enough to say I do to you.” She hoped her slur would have him poking barbs back.

Instead, he was quiet.

Really quiet.

She shook his arm.

“Victor?”

Then she heard his snore.

She watched him, passed out on the bar, for several seconds. Would have considered leaving him there but knew the guilt would eat at her if she did.

There was no way she could get him to his room without help.

Patting down his back pockets, she found his cell phone. Using his passed out hand, she pressed his thumb to the reader until it opened. It didn’t take long to locate Justin’s phone number. He answered immediately.

“Where the hell are you, jackass?”

“He’s passed out on the bar,” she said with a chuckle.

“What? Who is this?”