A little while later, Josh was on Main Street. His plan to survive the reception had worked. If he wasn’t dancing, he’d held a glass of mineral water or a flute of sparkling cider. The bartender, who’d dealt with guests like him before, had his refills ready for him. Josh had left as the beer chugging got underway.
Thinking how he’d handled the evening sent a rush of pride through him. He’d remained in control. Focused. Happy.
Being sober hadn’t affected his fun. If anything, he’d had a better time than the last wedding where he couldn’t even recall the bride or groom’s names. Josh would remember Jenny and Dare’s ceremony, the reception, and his brief interlude with…
Hope.
The heels of his dress shoes clapped against the sidewalk. He focused on the sound to keep himself in the moment because all he wanted to do was float away in his memory of kissing Hope.
She’d kissed him.
Her making the first move had been both a thrill and a turn-on. He couldn’t wait to find out what the rest of tonight held because his lips still tingled from her kisses.
Soon.
He doubted he’d hear from Hope for another hour. That would give him time to settle his anxious nerves. Not that he had any reason to be nervous. His past didn’t seem to bother Hope, and he’d succeeded at the reception.
Was that enough? Was he?
Josh wished he knew.
No matter how well he’d done tonight, or any day since his arrest, the past hung over him like a dark cloud about to unleash a torrential thunderstorm and drown him once again. He couldn’t quite shake what he’d done or the man he’d been. The bottle had controlled him for so long—imaging a future where he made the decisions still seemed like a pipe dream.
Or had.
Until meeting Hope.
She made him want to focus on the future and put the past behind him once and for all.
But could he do that?
Josh glanced at his cell phone in case he’d missed hearing a text notification. Nothing from Hope, but his brother and sister both wanted to know how things were going.
He went into the Chocolate Emporium where he ordered a peanut cluster and a soda before sitting to rest his leg and text his family. A few people inside gave him second and third glances, but thankfully no one approached him. Good, because he’d forgotten to wear a baseball cap. That wouldn’t go with his suit.
Keeping his head down to avoid making eye contact with anyone, he downed his drink before throwing his trash away and leaving the chocolate shop.
A few people milled about, but not as many as were out during the afternoons. He’d make his way back toward the resort. By the time he got there, maybe Hope would be finished.
Music poured out of the open door of a bar. Funny, but he hadn’t realized this place existed.
“Josh, right?” A young woman stood in the bar’s doorway. “You’re Jenny’s friend.”
He nodded.
“I’m Claire, one of Dare’s sisters.” She glanced over her shoulder and then back at him. She frowned. “Two of his friends are here and have had way too much to drink. They’re ready to pass out or start a fight. I’d rather not disturb Dare on his wedding night, and I don’t have Mitch Hamilton’s number. Could you please help me get them back to their cottage?”
Josh had made it through the reception, but going into a bar…
A shiver ran down his spine. Goose bumps pricked his skin. Claire had no idea what she was asking. He hadn’t been in a bar in almost a year. But he couldn’t leave her to deal with this herself. That wouldn’t be right when he’d been so intoxicated at times he’d needed others to step up to get him home safely.
“Sure,” he said.
“Thanks.” The tension in her face lessened, but her posture remained stiff. “I should have never offered to be their DW.”
“DW?”
“Designated walker. A driver isn’t required since we’re staying so close to Main Street.” She sighed. “This serves me right for thinking one of them was cute. Dare tried to warn me, but I thought he was going all big brother on me.”
Josh wouldn’t want Ava to have to deal with drunks, and she was at least a decade older than Claire. “We’ll get them back to the cottage.”
“Thanks.”
Staring at the bar’s entrance, he squared his shoulders.
I’ve got this.
Just like the reception.
Josh took a breath before forcing himself to go inside. The sights and sounds hit him like a punch to the solar plexus. The smells overwhelmed and intoxicated him.
Home.
Being inside was like coming home. People might not know his name here, but the atmosphere of kinship and alcohol-fueled acceptance was the same as any other place he’d frequented.
Claire motioned for him to follow. “They’re by the bar.”
Two men Josh recognized from the wedding sat on stools downing shots. One slammed his glass against the bar. “Another round.”
Claire grimaced. “The shots are after the beer and wine at the reception.”
He could barely hear her over the music and the hooting and shouting crowd. Patrons slurred their words as they ordered more drinks from the tray-carrying waitresses in shorts and tight T-shirts.
Get out.
Except he couldn’t. Not until he helped Claire.
Behind the bar, the bottles sitting on shelves glowed and called to him as if they contained the answer to every problem in the world. Once they had, or so he’d believed. Now…
Someone backed into him. “Sorry, bro.”
“No problem,” Josh said automatically.
“Well, I’ll be.” The man’s breath smelled like beer from a keg that had been sitting out in the sun too long. He slapped Josh on the shoulder. “Miss seeing you on the field each Sunday, number eighteen.”
“Thanks.” Josh tried to get closer to Claire, but the guy blocked his way.
“Have one on me.” The guy shoved a shot glass of tequila in Josh’s hand, some of the amber liquid sloshing onto his skin. “That’s the least I can do after the money you won me with my Fantasy Football team.”
Transfixed, Josh stared at the drink. His fingers tightened painfully around the glass, his brain unsure if it were a magic elixir or deadly poison. Thoughts crashed through him, but one was louder than the rest.
Think how much easier it will be to deal with the two drunks at the bar with some liquid courage. One drink will settle you down. That way you’ll be relaxed and ready to see Hope.
He knew that inner voice—had listened and done what it said so many times.
You’ve still got it, Cooper. Come on. It’s only one drink. You can handle a little shot.
* * *
Standing in the courtyard, Hope glanced at her cell. No reply from Josh yet. The multipurpose room was cleaned and locked. She’d sent the first text to him over thirty minutes ago.
Where was he?
She shook her phone as if that would make a difference. Still no reply.
What was going on?
He’d said he would meet her here. She’d confirmed their plans after their dance.
After the kiss.
Had something happened or had he changed his mind?
Thoughts tangled together, but one screamed louder than the rest.
He’s not coming.
Hope didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. She’d finally taken a chance and gone after what she wanted… only to be stood up.
Karma? Fate? Whichever it was, it had to be laughing at her.
Trying had to count for something, right? Paula would be happy Hope hadn’t given up, and Von…
Her brother would say “I told you so” if she told him what happened. A good thing he was staying at his place in Charleston this weekend. Probably better if she told no one about this.
The silent phone mocked her as much as her thoughts. Hope’s shoulders slumped, feeling as if bags of sand had been piled on top of them.
Josh doesn’t care about you.
You were someone convenient to spend time with.
He’s with another woman.
What was she doing? Thinking? She had no idea what was going on. Why think the worst?
Maybe his leg was hurting, and he’d stayed at his cottage. Maybe he’d fallen asleep. Maybe he’d gone to a late-night support meeting. They had those, right?
One excuse followed another. She wasn’t named Hope for nothing. Except…
A sour taste coated her mouth. She wrapped her arms around her knot-filled stomach.
When Adam’s lover had confessed their affair, Hope had spent the rest of the day making similar excuses for her husband. Anything to believe she hadn’t been betrayed and lied to by the man she loved. She’d almost been able to convince herself they weren’t over until he’d blamed her for his cheating. That was when she knew the marriage was over.
And she’d lost it.
Hope wasn’t about to borrow worry, but she wouldn’t justify being blown off by Josh, either. She typed out another text—her third, but who was counting other than her?
Hope: Haven’t heard from you, so I’m going home.
Short and sweet.
No asking if he’d danced too much and his leg was hurting. No asking if he was tired and needed to sleep. No asking if he wanted her to be there and help him.
Not her job.
Send the message. If he’d wanted to see you tonight, he would have replied. He would be here.
Hope hit send.
The message showed delivered, but no reply came. With a sigh, she removed her shoes from her sore feet and put on flip-flops instead.
Time to go home.
Though she doubted she’d be able to sleep.
* * *
Josh stood at Hope’s door, feeling like an idiot and a loser. Of course, he was both. She deserved better, but he had no place else to go.
He rang the doorbell.
He’d thought he was getting better, stronger, but the temptation was still there. And always would be.
He’d hadn’t truly grasped that.
Until tonight.
Where was Hope? He’d seen her texts. She said she would be home.
He hit the doorbell again.
Josh had been told many times that once an alcoholic, always an alcoholic. He’d never believed it, even if he said the words. But he realized tonight he would always be an alcoholic.
Fear flowed through him. Fear of failing himself and those who cared about him.
Maybe the doorbell was broken.
He knocked. The frenetic sound echoed the beat of his heart.
“Who is it?” Hope asked through the closed door.
“Josh.” His voice sounded strangled.
The door flew open. Her hurt-filled eyes widened. She wore a pair of shorts and an oversized T-shirt. Her fingers gripped the doorknob. “I texted you and waited a half hour.”
“I’m sorry.” He imagined what she saw in that instant because he felt as if he’d taken ten steps back tonight. He must look a mess.
Who was he kidding? He was a mess.
This is who you are.
Who you might always be.
No, he didn’t want to settle for that. Josh wanted to be more than a drunk wanting his next drink. If not, he would have stayed at the bar. He wouldn’t have called Rudy. He wouldn’t be here. “I’m so, so sorry.”
Josh didn’t know what else to say.
Questions filled her gaze, but something else, too. Compassion. She opened the door wider. “Come inside.”
He released the breath he’d been holding. His steps hesitant, he crossed the threshold slowly, his usual confidence overrun by doubt and uncertainty.
“Sit.” She motioned to the couch. “Did something happen?”
Unable to answer, Josh sat. His hands trembled, and he clasped them together. He focused on his breathing—a trick he’d learned during rehab.
She touched his arm. “Can I get you anything?”
His throat was Sahara dry. “Water, please.”
“I’ll be right back.” Hope went into the kitchen. Ice cubes dropped into a glass.
He’d been so careful up to this point in his recovery. Sure, he’d been around others who drank. He’d passed through the wine section at grocery stores. He’d made it through the reception. He thought he had a better handle on his sobriety.
But he hadn’t.
Not even close if he went by tonight.
She returned with two glasses of water, placed them on the coffee table, and sat next to him. At least she wasn’t keeping her distance. “If you want something to eat, let me know.”
“Thanks.” He sipped his water. Thirsty or procrastinating, he wasn’t sure. “I’m sorry for barging in on you so late. I was on the phone with Rudy, my sponsor, when you were texting. He’d still be on the phone with me, but I wanted to talk to someone in person. I had nowhere else to go but here. Well, except back to the bar.”
Hope stiffened. “The bar?”
“I didn’t drink, but I wanted to. Oh, how I wanted to.” Josh scrubbed his hands over his face, wishing he could wipe away what happened. He’d tried to be the man he wanted to be—a decent man, not a drunk. “I was so tempted I feel like I failed.”
“You can’t help how you feel, but the fact you’re here and not at the bar means you won.” She held his hand. “How did you end up there in the first place?”
“I was over on Main Street waiting to hear from you.” He clung to Hope like a lifeline. “One of Dare’s sisters saw me. She asked if I’d help her get two of Dare’s friends, who’d drunk too much, back to their cottage.”
“So you went in there to help—not to drink.” It wasn’t a question, but the relief in Hope’s voice was clear.
“Drinking was the last thing on my mind,” he admitted. “But as soon as I entered…”
The memory of the smells assaulted him.
“It was like coming home after being away for far too long. I felt as if I belonged. Someone recognized me. Handed me a shot. I held the glass. Smelled the tequila. The adrenaline rush was strong. I’d missed that. More than I realized.”
“Is this your first time feeling that way?”
“No, but it’s been a while. I’ve avoided putting myself in situations like this.” He shook his head. “A little voice said ‘it’s only one drink’. Even though I knew it would matter, and I’d never stop with one drink, I held onto that shot glass like it was as necessary to my survival as oxygen. Worse, I was so caught up in myself that Dare’s sister was on her own with the drunks. I was selfish when I should have been selfless. If one of Dare’s friends hadn’t fallen off his stool, I might have downed that shot.”
Josh squeezed his eyes shut, but that didn’t stop the scene from playing in his mind as if on an endless loop. “I’ve been going to meetings and doing what I’m supposed to do. I thought I was further along in my recovery. I thought I would be different from everyone else. I believed I’d kick this and not be tempted again. But I’m the same as everyone else who has gone through this. Each day is getting better, but it’s still a battle. One I feel I’m losing now.”
He cradled his head in his hands.
“Hey.” She wrapped her arm around him. Pulled him closer. “Tonight was hard on you. I get that, but it’ll be okay.”
Hearing her words made him want to believe them.
Being with her was what he needed. The sweet scent of her filled his senses. The tension seeped from his body. He relaxed into her.
“I gave back the drink without taking a sip. We got the two guys to their cottage and left them in the care of one of their friends who wasn’t drunk. As soon as I left, I called Rudy. He talked me off the edge. I headed toward your house. He didn’t want to hang up, but I told him I had a place to go, someone to be with who would listen and help me. You.”
Hope hugged him. “You did the right thing by not drinking or going back to the bar after you’d left. You called for support and came here.”
“I’m a wreck.” The words came out rough and raw as if his heart had been ripped from his chest.
“That’s okay. Staying sober can’t be easy, but you’re doing it.” She let go of him and straightened. “I’m proud of you for coming here, for trusting me to help rather than turning to the bottle. I respect you so much.”
He wanted to scream stop. She was being too nice to him.
Josh lowered his gaze to his dress shoes. “I haven’t done anything to earn your pride or respect.”
His words were hushed. His strength and hope gone, defeated by the knowledge he might not have slipped up tonight, but he would…eventually.
“Don’t say that.” Her tone was harsh, not what he expected. “The first step to overcoming a problem is admitting you have one. That’s what you did. Do you know how many people can’t do that or even realize there’s an issue? I don’t know what you’re going through, but you’ve been sober since July, right? That’s a big deal. And you’re being way too hard on yourself. Don’t discount what you’ve been doing or how far you’ve come.”
“I’ll try not to.” Hope was incredible. She grounded him. Made him want to succeed. But she deserved better than him. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” Her closed-mouthed smile spread. “I want to help you, Josh. Whatever you need. Just ask or tell me.”
His heart pounded. “Being here with you is what I need.”
“Stay as long as you need to.”
“Be careful,” he joked. How crazy was it he felt like doing that when a few minutes ago he’d been on the verge of an anxiety attack? But Hope was the reason he felt better. “You might not be able to get rid of me.”
Josh’s eyes dropped to her lips. The urge to kiss her was growing by the second. Except he wasn’t here for that. He needed her support, not a kiss or anything else, even if he might want that.
He scooted away. Not far, but enough distance to slow his pulse and lessen the effect of her warmth.
She angled her body toward him, but kept space between them, somehow knowing it was what he needed. “Tell me more about tonight.”
He groaned. Maybe she didn’t know what he needed because talking wasn’t it. “I told you already.”
“Tell me again,” she encouraged. She’d always seemed strong to him but never like now where an inner strength shined inside her for him to see. It captivated and scared him at the same time. “Talk it out so you feel only pride, not shame or embarrassment.”
He nearly rolled his eyes, but Hope didn’t deserve that. “You sound like my sponsor or my therapist.”
She shot him a mischievous glance. “Is that good or bad? Before you answer, remember you’re the one who came to me.”
He half-laughed. “I’m not sure what it is, to be honest, but I’d rather be talking to you than anyone else, even if I wish the subject were different and we were dancing on the beach again.”
A big smile lit up her face, taking his breath away. “Maybe after talking, we can do something fun. Your leg must be tired. We can relax and watch a movie.”
“I want to spend time with you tonight.” He kicked off his shoes. “I don’t care what we do.”
She held his hand. “So talk.”
Josh did. This time he added how nervous he was to see her tonight, even though he knew she accepted him for who he was. That seemed to please her. He repeated what he’d done after leaving the reception, going more in depth about his walk and what happened when he went into the bar. He left out no detail, and something interesting happened. The more he told Hope, the better he felt. Those icky, I’m-a-loser feelings lessened. He kept talking, and Hope kept listening. Laughter, a few tears, half-a-dozen cookies, and then yawns…