When I lift my eyes to find him staring at me, I snap. Marching over to him, I grab the bottle from his hand—Jack Daniels, it is—and head toward the kitchen sink, pouring the amber liquid down the drain.
Elliot rushes over to me, but I push him away. “What the fuck are you doing, woman?”
“Saving your liver from cirrhosis.”
“Fucking hell, Dilynne!” He tries to take the bottle from my hand, but I’m able to keep him at arm’s length. “Stop wasting my booze!”
Once the final drop is gone, I set the empty bottle in the sink and turn to face him with my hands on my hips and determination in my veins. “You’re wasting yourlifeby drinking it away!”
He tosses his hands in the air. “Why the fuck do you care what I’m doing? You hate me, remember?”
“On most days, yeah…I do. But not right now, Elliot. Not when you’re hurting.” The admission surprises even me because Elliot hasn’t been afraid to hurt my feelings in the past.
Something in his expression shifts before it hardens again.
He blinks a few times before he speaks. “What the hell do you know about hurting?”
I huff out a laugh. “You’re not the only person who’s had their heart broken and thought alcohol could fix it. Actually, I preferred ice cream to booze, now that I think about it,” I say, tapping my chin.
“Who are you talking about?”
“Vinnie,” I say, hating the way his name tastes coming out of my mouth. It’s been almost a year since I’ve uttered that name. Just thinking about him still pulls me under dark clouds some days. But I’ve come a long way since our breakup, so I know there is light after the storm—which is what Elliot needs help finding.
“Is that the guy you dated a few years ago?” he asks through a hiccup.
“Yes, and our breakup was awful, but no amount of alcohol or ice cream made the pain go away, Elliot.” I pull out a box from the bag of food and pop the lid, the smell of deep-fried goodness wafting between us. “Now fucking eat something.”
He keeps his eyes on mine as he shoves an onion ring into his mouth. “I don’t get it, Dilynne. You fucking hated Tori. Hell, I thought you’d be happy she left me.”
“You’re right. She was one of my least favorite people on the planet. But this isn’t about her. It’s aboutyou. You can’t let her destroy you. If you do that, she wins.”
“Why does it matter to you?”
“If you think I don’t care about you on some level after all these years, then you’re more of an idiot than I give you credit for.”
“Back to insulting me already?”
“When you deserve it, yes.” Shaking my head, I continue, “But no one deserves to be betrayed like that, Elliot—not even you. That’s why I’m here, okay?”
He drags a hand through his hair. “You’re so fucking confusing.”
“I do what I can,” I say as I reach for an onion ring and pop it into my mouth, giving myself a moment to gather my thoughts before I open up to him more than he deserves. “Now, if you’d let me, I’d like to talk to you about something.”
His brows draw together in confusion as I motion him toward the living room. He carries the box of onion rings with him to the couch before plopping down on the cushions. I take a seat in the chair to his right. Sighing, I prepare my speech I came up with on the way here. “I think it’s time you talk to someone.”
“Like who?”
“A therapist.”
He eyes me wearily. “Have you been talking to Fletcher?”
“No, but glad to know I’m not the only one that’s giving you this advice.”
He rolls his eyes. “I don’t need a fucking shrink, Dilynne. And I sure as fuck don’t need advice from you.”
I hold my hands up in the air. “I get it, trust me. But speaking from experience, a therapist is going to help you move past this more than anyone else can. They’ll help you process what happened and what went wrong so you won’t repeat your mistakes, even though you’re not the one to blame for what happened, Elliot.”
Blowing out a breath, I lean back in my chair, debating what to say next. Elliot and I don’t talk about feelings. But right now, I just want him to know he’s not alone.