Mixed Connection (Cypress Lake Reunion #1)

3. Chapter 3

3

Lo

I can’t wait to see you babes at Benny’s! OOH, that’s a good group chat name.

*Group chat name has been updated to Babes at Benny’s*

The alarm from my phone sounds in the background, letting me know that if I don’t get my ass moving I’ll be late. I slap my hand at it, knocking it to the floor in the process. Setting multiple alarms should help me stay on time and on track of when I need to leave—what it actually does is give me a false sense of security, blanketing me in my own lies. Kicking my legs at the tangled sheet, I truly feel like a toddler at this moment. Throwing a temper tantrum because my sandwich wasn’t cut the exact way I wanted. Today is just one of those days that I would rather stay in bed, but I have things I need to get done. I peel the duvet back, sit up, and force myself out of bed.

Living upstairs above the bar, allows me extra time to get my day started and saves me a good sum of money in rent and utilities. When I first thought of Shaken Tropes, I knew I was going to want to have my own business near town, instead of downtown. Instead of needing to pay for two separate mortgages, I opted to buy a building that could work in both capacities. It didn’t hurt that I stumbled on a construction company nearby that could accomplish everything on my wishlist. The owner is a goliath but a softy at heart, we became fast friends during the design portion, and created my own sanctuary that encompassed my business too. I have future plans for my apartment when Lo and I decide to expand; he worked up mocks of future remodel possibilities.

Folding the sheet and duvet over my bed, I straighten my satin-covered pillows and pour a glass of water from my bedside carafe. The sky is all blue; not a cloud in sight. At least, not from my bedroom window. It’s going to be a great night to stargaze from the rooftop deck… one that is all mine. There is nothing that fills me with all-encompassing joy than when I get to enjoy a cocktail while I send some much needed wishes up to the moon.

I take in a deep breath at the thought of holding a cafe con leche, and the scent of bourbon hits my nose from downstairs. It takes me right back to being introduced to the boy I had a thing for all those years ago, who is very much a man now. A sexy one , my inner voice reminds me.

Jameson’s thick, muscled arms felt like a comforting weight as he wrapped them around my center stopping me from falling on my face after he ran into me. He was gentler than I expected for a man of his size—limber too, with all the dancing we did. The way his hands ghosted along my waist with feather-soft touches left me almost panting with a deep want to know how his hands would feel in other places.

My phone dings, pulling me out of my thoughts and reminding me of those worthless, and possibly forgetful, hands. Hands that couldn’t bother to call or text me. Not even once. It has been two days since the reunion and I’m not one to rush anyone but, come on . Two days is enough time to say something, anything. He seemed so interested. I’m frustrated, convinced the attraction was one-sided.

Shrugging and shaking my head, I guess spicy romance really is taking over my mind and…well, I find myself looking for romantic scenarios. What girl doesn’t want swoon-worthy love? I shrug my shoulders up to my ears at no one but myself. I guess I could have imagined it, spicy romance has quickly become a not so guilty pleasure, because I don’t feel guilty for enjoying something so damn good. I can’t even count how many fictional relationships I have right now. But no matter how fine they are, they are not keeping my sheets warm at night. At this point, my bed might as well be frostbitten.

Since the reunion, Facebook’s people you may know feature has continued to push him in my face. I know I should remove the pop-up, but I can’t force myself to, not after all the years of crushing on him during high school. Not yet, at least. He has a handsome face I want to throttle, but he doesn’t truly deserve my energy if he’s not interested. On to the next as Paloma would say. I’m a crippling romantic and I am holding out, hoping for my whirlwind romance.

Flicking on the bathroom light, I dig underneath the vanity and grab my hair dryer, along with my favorite curly hair attachment, and plug it in. Before clicking on my diffuser, not trusting my internal clock, my eyes snap up to check the time in the corner of the vanity, and it looks like I was right not to trust myself. I needed to be out of here five minutes ago, so it looks like I am going out into the world looking like a waterlogged rat instead.

Putting the blow dryer down, I sweep my hair back in a low ponytail that’s parted down the middle and apply a swipe of red lipstick. Wiggling my hips I pull on my jean shorts and button them before pulling on a soft white t-shirt that is slightly oversized. These high waist shorts are soft from years of wear, a clear favorite in my wardrobe, they hug my curves just the way I like. I tuck my shirt in a bit and pair my outfit with sandals the color of dark mustard, and head out the door. Just as I am walking down the stairs, my phone chirps with an incoming video call and Paloma’s bright, caramel eyes and wine-colored hair fills my screen.

I swear this woman is probably the only person I will answer a random video call from. “Hola, babe! How are we feeling this morning?” She wiggles her eyebrows at me and the large, gold hoops that dangle from her ears twist back and forth as she bounces in her seat. My lips twitch, cracking my resting bitch face as it always does when we’re talking.

“Today is going to be a good day,” I declare. “I refuse to focus anymore on Mister Tall, Dark, and Bulldozer-y.”

“Forget him babe, if he isn’t going to call you then it’s his loss. You are a fucking catch! On to the next one,” she chirps from the other side of the phone.

“I know, I know. I just felt this chemistry with him and it’s bothering me,” I respond, letting my annoyance seep through my voice. I circle my hand in a flourish instead of expressing how ridiculous I feel for wanting this connection so badly. Okay, maybe I am going to focus on him a bit more. One night at a reunion and I am stuck on him. And for what? “I’m heading out the door right now to meet you both for brunch. Are we still meeting at our spot?”

“Of course we are! They have these new waffles I want to try,” she says, almost dancing in response. Paloma loves waffles, at this point, I think she’s in a relationship with them.

“Okay babes, I will be there in ten…” I sing-song the last few words to her.

“Do you want me to swing by and pick you up?” she offers, causing me to lean back and peer at the clear, blue sky from the side door window. It’s a perfect day.

“Nope, it’s only a ten-minute walk. I think the fresh air will do me good. But you can drop me back off because I am going to need to be rolled out of there,” I say.

“You and me both!” she replies before we disconnect the call. I push open the door to the bar, locking it before turning on the paved sidewalk on my way to Eggs Benny.

Swinging the heavy wood door of our favorite brunch spot open, my eyes immediately find Paloma who must have walked in moments before me. Her arms are outstretched to me and a high-pitched squeal catches us both by surprise, freezing us in the moment. Paloma and I both look toward the upstairs foyer where the squeal originated to see one of our oldest friends. Janelle’s joy is contagious.

I couldn’t contain the elation I felt when she called me yesterday, saying she was free today and really wanted to get together with us since it has been a decade since she last saw Paloma. Our screams and giggles quickly follow as we rush up the stairs, pulling each other into bear hugs.

“Oh my freaking God, Paloma! It’s so damn good to see you girl.” Janelle’s voice is an octave higher than normal as she pulls back from Paloma, just enough to look into her face. I can feel the joy radiating out from all of us.

“I know! And it already feels like the summer pool days!” Paloma answers, pulling Janelle into another hug; each of us giving each other kisses on the cheeks.

I turn to pull the red, leather-upholstered chair out and lounge into the pillow-soft seat. My eyes take in our surroundings, noting the small changes Benny has made since the last time we were here. I take in the plush decor while my two best friends do the catching up they missed out on at the reunion. Eggs Benny is an interesting spot—soft, eclectic maximalist is what I would call it. There are booths of different shades in every color palette, mis-matched chairs, and tables of different sizes and materials. Everything somehow blends together so well.

I drop my head back, swaying my shoulders to the soft music playing in the background, and allow a lazy grin to form as I look up to the ceiling. The light fixtures are full of art pieces that were installed around bulbs. Some have half a red painted chair, others with the sexy lady leg lamp from that Christmas movie everyone loves. Sinking deep into the plush cushions of the seats, it’s like sitting on a cloud and I consider for a moment how I can sneak it out of here. I know just the place for it in my apartment. I think he figured if the chairs were soft, people would eat more and not conspire to steal them. If I could fit it in my bag, he’d have a real problem on his hands.

I stifle a giggle noticing the comics on Paloma’s newspaper-printed chair cushion. “What’s so funny?” Paloma asks. I point toward her cushion, she tilts her hips slightly, looking down at her seat before joining in with her own snicker. Almost as soon as Janelle’s butt hits the seat, she stands, brushing her hands against her ass.

“Tell me if I have a whole poodle on my butt?” She turns around, bending slightly to give us a view of what the offending faux fur chair may have left.

“You’re good babe! No poodle butt for you today. Not yet, anyway!” I wiggle my fingers, making grabby hands at her. I love the vibes at Eggs Benny, and I love it even more, now that Janelle is here to share it with us.

“What can I get for the most beautiful trio of ladies I have ever laid my eyes on?” Benny greets the table. He’s an older gentleman who bought this building with his husband a few years ago and we fucking love him. The previous owner was a grouchy old lady.

Paloma purses her lips and says in a teasingly mocking tone, “You are laying it on mighty thick this morning, Benny Boy.”

He throws his hands up in mock defense, his fingers wiggling on either side of his head as a sassy smirk causes his cheeks to point. Leaning forward, he kisses each of our cheeks. Both sides. Benny loves a flourish and it’s my absolute favorite thing about him. He isn’t scared to be himself, fully and without apology. Claiming right here at this moment, I want to be like him when I grow up. “How are you girls this morning and who is this?” He wiggles his brows.

“Benny, this is Janelle. We all went to high school together and she’s visiting for a little while. Janelle, this is Benny, he is scandalous. Believe nothing he says.” I giggle, introducing them.

With theatrical flair, he clutches at his neck, as though reaching for a strand of pearls in a feigned display of offense. Rolling his eyes slightly, he bends at the knee and covers his mouth to whisper to Janelle. I giggle as he begins speaking loud enough for Lo and I to hear as well. “I’m a proud tease. I’d flirt with a biscuit if it would talk back.”

Janelle reaches out her hand like an eighteenth-century dutchess and bats her eyelashes at Benny. “It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Lord Teaserton.”

“Oh, the pleasure is all mine,” he says as we scooch back into our seats. At this point I don’t even bother with a menu; I look at Janelle, knowing it’s her first time. Her shoulders are relaxed even while reading over the item descriptions, intermittently pausing to share some juicy gossip with Lo about people from the reunion, their dance moves something of the future. They were zig-zagging all over the floor, stepping on toes, but the joy on their faces was everything. I still made sure to keep my toes far away from those foot crunchers they called feet.

When Janelle looks up at me, a twinkle in her eyes, it’s all the confirmation I need as I knew she’d love it here, it’s like she’s always been a part of our trio, even during the ten year hiatus. And the feeling of rightness, in this moment, with the crew back together, it’d take a nuclear explosion to pry me away.

“What can I get you ladies?” Paloma orders the honey and lime fried chicken and waffles and Janelle opts for a Tex-Mex omelet with toast. Both rattle off their orders so we can get to girl talk and stuff our faces. Benny then turns towards me with a knowing look as I hand him the menus I’ve gathered.

“Benny, can you ask Ralph to make me something new…surprise me!” We have tried every single item on the menu since they opened. So, I started pushing Ralph, the head cook, to create new things. He always creates something amazing, he literally can not make anything bad. “And a pitcher of your sunrise sangria, pretty please.” I can already feel the bubbles on my tongue from the lemon-lime soda, the tart citrus flavors that make me forget there is red wine mixed in to create the perfect brunch drink.

He shushes me and walks off with our orders, waving goodbye for the moment. Off to tend to other customers or flirt with his hubby. The girls and I take the time to catch up on life. It doesn’t take long before we all feel as though we never lost touch. Some people just click, and it’s always been that way with the three of us.

“Sooo, Lo, who are you seeing right now?” If she wasn’t my best friend, I probably wouldn’t catch the slight tightness in Lo’s shoulders at Janelle’s question. It’s a question she’s asked often when we’re with friends or when her mom calls, but she’s never been the relationship type. It has been years since Paloma actually dated anyone seriously. She may have had a few casual flings here and there, one that resulted in an actual boyfriend, but it fizzled out as quickly as it started.

“Men are not on my radar. The bar has all my attention,” Paloma responds, her voice confident. I eye her from the top of my glass of sangria that I have been drinking like juice. Benny garnishes the glass with a fresh slice of orange, making the entire drink that much better. “I know it may not be the norm, but I don’t want to date around. Cass and I have worked so hard to build, not just Shaken Tropes, but the brand around it.” Her eyes skate to me for just a moment before continuing, “I’m kind of hoping we get the chance to expand in the near future. I don’t want a relationship to take my focus away right now. It’s not worth the heartbreak or the effort.”

Janelle moves to grab her sangria, taking a sip before responding, “Hey, I get it, Lo! Do what feels right for you. I’m not dating anyone either. I mean, I’d like to put myself out there and I have, but being active duty doesn’t give me much time aside from online dating. I know it works for so many, but I’ve not had any luck with it.” She shares her own reasons for singleness and continues, “I’m proud of you for standing in what your needs are and I am so ready to see this bar of yours. Cass told me a bit about it at the reunion and it sounds incredible!” Then her eyes turn toward me, but before she can ask the question that I know is sitting on the tip of her tongue, out comes Benny with our food.

Paloma’s eyes widen into saucers as soon as she sees the chicken and waffles, and I can’t lie, it looks absolutely delicious. So does Janelle’s meal.

He sets my plate in front of me and I do my best not to drool. “Ralph wanted to try something a little different for one of your favorites. Chorizo gravy and biscuits with a sweet potato hash and a honey whipped butter.”

“You tell your husband that I love him.” I point my fork at Benny’s chest to ensure he knows how serious I am before I holler toward the kitchen, “Ralph I love you!” Knowing Ralph can hear me from this distance, I can see in my mind’s eye the smile that I know he has on his face.

We all enjoy the food, sampling from one another’s choices. At one point, Paloma almost took out my finger when I attempted to grab a bite, she gets a bit stabby over waffles. We joke and people-watch those around us.

“We should plan a trip!” I say, and Paloma’s gaze turns to me, honey drips from her mouth as she stuffs another bite in, nodding her head in agreement.

“Gol, yuspft,” Janelle tries and fails to speak. We all make eye contact and burst out laughing—yes, we all somehow understood what she said.

“Fuck, that was way funny!” Holding my face from the pains of laughter, I grin and continue, “Janelle, I know you’ll have to give us your schedule but I think we should, it’ll be like old times.”

“I am so down! Ooh, let’s go on a cruise!” Paloma exclaims, clearly excited by the thought of it.

“But isn’t that more like a couples’ kind of thing?” I furrow my brows in question. For whatever reason I imagine a cruise with a significant other. You know, drinking our fill while going on excursions that turn steamy, someone to snuggle in the sheets with. Never did I think of a cruise as a girls’ trip.

“Girl, no! There are all types of cruises. Maybe we can find one that’s adults-only and all-inclusive. One that stops at a lot of good beaches!” Paloma says, waving off my comment.

“True! We could also rent out a badass house instead. Ooh, on the beach in Tulum or something.” Janelle then adds, giving us both a judgy look through her lowered lashes, “Just remember I need time to put in the request! I will not be missing this.”

“Now, that is a couples’ thing. I love y’all, but if I am in Tulum, I want to be getting my cheeks clapped under the stars.” I pinch my lips together before Paloma slaps the table with the palm of her hand and squeals. We all start laughing again, clearly we’ve had our fill of sangria. This is exactly why we choose Benny’s upstairs deck when the days are nice. It’s a covered deck and all the surrounding, sliding glass doors are open, allowing the warm breeze in. We’ve been here for a couple of hours and even I am feeling far past tipsy.

Pushing my glass back, I grab a piece of my remaining biscuit, stuffing it in my mouth as if that is going to help soak up the alcohol. Eventually, Janelle brings up how much she missed Paloma at the reunion.

“I have to know”—Paloma looks at Janelle—“what is up with your boy Jameson?” My eyes go wide and I turn my head, blatantly staring at her. After hanging out with both Janelle and Jameson for most of the night, they seemed like they were as close of friends as Paloma and I, and I told her just that. I just didn’t think she would bring it up.

“What do you mean?” she asks curiously.

“Aren’t you two good friends?” Confusion is written all over Paloma’s face.

“I mean, we were close in high school. I kind of lost touch with everyone once I enlisted,” she says. “Cassidy, you two were eye fucking the entire night, what happened with that?”

I look around for the exits, why am I suddenly under attack?

“All that eye fucking and your girl here can’t even get a text back.” Maybe it was me frantically throwing my number in his lap, but I know he was feeling the pull just as much as I was. “I gave him my number, but no call or text. I guess he wasn’t as interested as I thought he was,” I respond, absentmindedly pulling my wine glass to me and realize it’s empty. I shrug my shoulders, and run my finger over the rim of the glass, giving one of my hands something to do.

“Babe, you called me and told me the man looked”—Lo purses her lips— “hmm, how did you put it… Depraved!” She snickers and a blush sneaks up my neck and cheeks.

“Cass, I don’t know. He was eating you up. There is no way that man just up and ghosted you, not that I don’t believe you, because I do. But there has to be an explanation. Do you want me to call him? Kick him in his shin? I’m up for either option,” Janelle offers, toeing her foot softly at my shin.

I shake my head, huffing a frustrated sigh under my breath. “No babe, I’m fine. I’m going to chalk it up to a fun night with friends and those heavy-poured cherry bourbon sours,” I answer, letting her off the hook. If he wanted to connect, he would have. No matter what I say, I can still feel the sagging in my shoulders and the bits of hope I was holding on to flutter away.

Paloma grabs my knee and squeezes. “Enough about men, when are we going to the pool? We can plan our trip while tanning.”

“Lo is right! My parents changed it to a salt water system a few years back and let me tell you… my skin feels as smooooth as a baby’s butt when I get out,” Janelle exclaims as she wraps her arms around herself and rubs them in fake seduction.

Benny walks over, placing a hand on my shoulder before he lays the check on the table. I look down for a moment before snapping my now-narrowed eyes back to him, immediately stuffing my hand in my pocket to quickly pull out my wallet; I decided to come only with the necessities since I walked here. I can hear bits of commotion at the table as I struggle to pull out my credit card. I dare a peek at my best friends, hoping I beat them to the bill.

They are both furiously digging in their bags for their cards. “Trying to pay the tab first I see,” I tease, with a menacing voice. Whipping out my credit card, I slap it in Benny’s outstretched hand as whispered curses and laughs are released around the table. He knows the drill, Paloma and I are constantly attempting to pay the tab before the other.

Before Janelle gets in her rideshare, she looks over at Paloma and me, smiling brightly. We promised that next week, we will get together for a pool day at her parents’ house. We’ll flesh out our trip a bit more and pray Paloma doesn’t become a lobster. I make a mental note, as I wave goodbye to Janelle, that I will pack extra sunscreen just in case.

Paloma drops me off at the bar but doesn’t come up since we will see each other later to open up. Just as my hand reaches for the door I notice a blue and white notice attached to the door knob, I snatch it off and sloppily place it on my desk before making my way upstairs. I’m tipsy and really just want to relax before my shift. It’s probably something new happening at the Night Market. I make a mental note to read the advertisement or review their social media to confirm the events—I love that place.

Lo cut herself off at one drink early into brunch as she knew she would be driving, we are both very serious about drinking and driving, as in, we don’t. End of story. There are too many stories about drunk drivers and accidents, we don’t intend on being a part of the problem.

I strip my clothes off for an oversized Shaken Tropes t-shirt that I cut the neckline out of for more slouch, a pair of comfy shorts, and my bunny-eared fuzzy slippers that I should probably throw away, but I love them too much. All the others I tried to replace them with broke instantly and I don’t want to splurge on a new pair either. They are slippers for God’s sake, let me be comfy. The slap of my slippers against the hardwood floors echoes as I open the fridge and grab a bottled peach tea. I lift my laptop from the bartop counter and plop down on the couch.

The space I created on the top floor of the building is my own personal sanctuary. Plants are hanging all over the place, others set on shelves, really any place I can rest them. I made sure to place hooks along the border of the bay window, giving my favorite spot a place for my pothos to grow.

Though I didn’t want my home and business to be downtown, I still love looking at the skyline once the sun sets. I get a beautiful view of the town day and night.

Floating shelves sandwich the window, all of which house a few of my favorite reads, candles, and plants. I kick off my slippers and dig my toes into the soft, dark-green rug in my living room while I open my laptop to do a last minute inventory before getting down to the bar.

Social media is my Achilles heel and I catch myself scrolling after working through last minute inventory changes Paloma sent over. My eyebrows lift at seeing Jameson cross my screen again and before I can stop myself, I click on “add friend” and promptly slap the top of my laptop down, closing off the heat I feel rising in my cheeks. Sure the FBI is watching me through my camera as I buy more smut, but they will not be catching me blazing with embarrassment over digitally befriending a man, my old teenage freaking crush. I need to draw the line somewhere!

“You know what, it’s fine. So you sent him a friend request after he didn’t bother to text or call you. Maybe he lost it,” I grumble to myself. Though isn’t losing it just as bad? My phone pings with a notification showing me that Jameson accepted my friend request. Hmmm.

Then I notice the time and realize I must have had my head down in the wine order for longer than I thought. I really need to start getting ready. It may be a slower night but we love book club, which is always a hoot. It was an idea from one of our regulars. One night a week to come together, get out of the house, and talk spicy reads together. Paloma ran with it and now we host Toasted Book Club every week!

I know she can handle book club, but I want to be there in case Paloma wants to head out. Kicking off my slippers by my bedroom door, I grab one of the many black Shaken Tropes t-shirts I own and a pair of linen shorts.

Hey babes! Are you already downstairs?

Lo

Yeah, the last minute shipment for the case of wine just came in.

Ooh yummy! Maybe it’ll be slow enough to try it out.

Lo

Mmhm, but you know how the girls at book club get. Lol

Don’t I know it. Coming!

I slip on my sneakers before walking towards slipping through the door to head downstairs. As soon as I close the door I can hear Paloma unlocking the front door of the bar and welcoming our book club patrons. Tonight it’s all about secret identity with a splash of childhood sweetheart. The group is brimming with excitement to chat it up, their laughter filling the room causes me to smile too.

As I’m lining up the tart cherry tequila shots that I dubbed Crimson Bonds after the blood-red color, and also the name of the book for this month, one of the girls comes over. “Hi Cassidy, thank you again for hosting us here.”

“Toya! You know I love hosting as much as you enjoy coming.” Delight flitting through my tone. “I hear you ladies are switching over to dark fantasy next month? Maybe I can come up with a new drink for you… just let me know, okay?”

She hums to herself before saying, “Maybe something with fire and whiskey! Our female main character loves whiskey.”

“Say less, babe!”

The night wears on, but no new customers come in who aren’t already here for book club. Once Paloma finishes unpacking the crate of wine, she walks over, hands me a bottle, and all but pushes me out of our bar to relax.

“You are here every moment of every day, take your ass home and don’t come back down, girl. Try the wine and let me know if you think it works for Shaken. Bye bitch!” She blows me a kiss and I swear my eyes are going to get stuck in the back of my head with how hard I roll them.

I take her advice and tread back up the stairs knowing the wine is going to be incredible. My fuzzy bunny slippers are calling my name.

Three glasses of the sweetest red wine I have ever tasted later, and everything feels too hot. When I came upstairs from the bar I just wanted to breathe. Forgoing changing into my tank and pajama shorts, I threw my clothes in the laundry room and wrapped myself in my soft cotton robe. Though even the deep purple robe feels too warm against my skin.

I notch the air conditioner on and untie my robe before turning up the old school R&B music that is pumping through my speakers. I catch a glimpse of myself in the floor-length mirror in my room as I sway to the song. The smart lights glow and flow smoothly, pulsing along with the beat of the music in deep pinks and dark oranges. The set of lingerie I have on is my favorite, and I wear it often because it makes me feel damn good. The panties sit high up on my hips, the outline of my belly prominent, as is my cleavage. I take the opportunity to bend over, twist, and move my body to the music as I dance, and snap full-body pictures along with favorite areas of my body.

Lying over the edge of my bed, my hair just barely touching the floor from the height of the frame. I roll over, pulling my sheets over me, wanting to scroll through the pictures I took. Wanting to get rid of the ones I’m not fond of. I click on the photos app but my phone pings with a reminder, drawing my attention to something more interesting.

Send your new friend Jameson a message!

The notification stays there for a few moments before I decide I will, in fact, send him a message, and show him exactly what he is missing. Flicking through the pictures, I look over a couple I snapped while on my bed, my heart skipping a beat as I hover over my favorite before clicking share. I rattle a message to him, pouring a bit of brat into it as my fingers move rapidly over the keyboard. The moment I hit “send”, a wave of clarity along with the heat of embarrassment overtakes me, climbing up my neck, face, and ears. What the fuck was I thinking? Sending a man I barely know racy photos of me. My gaze slowly drifts to the empty bottle of wine and I consider how I feel. I’m a grown-ass woman and I can send photos to whomever I please. It was a yes that, when I sit here and think about it, I’m proud of. I hope he drools himself into oblivion for what he’s missing out on. Satisfied with myself again, the wine finally hits my system, and I doze off.