Shaken, Not Stirred

“Ouch,” Alyssa quips as she walks back into the kitchen. “I’m thinking Te

Almost as if on cue, my phone actually dings in my pocket and despite how mad I am at him and my bratty side demanding that I ignore him so he sees how it feels, I frantically reach into my pocket for my phone.

It’s indeed a text from Te

Back in WY. Have been slammed with meetings. Sorry haven’t called. Will call soon.

I stare at the text and my anger rages even hotter. I can’t believe he texts me a lame-ass apology with a vague promise to talk to me at some vague point in the future.

Don’t bother, I hastily text back as Brody stares at my phone over my shoulder.

Shaking his head, Brody gives me a reprimand. “Seriously, Casey? Kind of juvenile.”

“No more juvenile than when I tell you to ‘bite me’,” I sneer back at him, and my eyes stay glued to my screen.

The first contact in three days and it’s a brief text to me? I’m apparently not important enough to warrant a quick phone call?

Asshole.

Another ding has me tensed and prepared for battle as I read Te

Well, shit. Of course I want him to call me. I want him to grovel in apology for making me worry and hurting my feelings, but something that I call a little bit of the Markham stubborn pride rears its very ugly head.

While I’m not willing to cut off my nose to spite my face, I take a middle of the road approach when I write back. I haven’t heard from you in three days. It’s really kind of moot if I hear from you soon or not.

I study the message carefully. It’s cryptic enough he’ll scratch his head, but it’s by no means cutting ties with him. It’s merely my way of voicing my feminine displeasure.

I hit send.

“You are such a brat,” Brody mutters as he continues to read our interplay over my shoulder. I turn away from him to shield my phone and patiently wait for Te

It’s only one word.

Brat.

Same fucking word Brody just used.

“Aaaghhh,” I scream out and throw my phone across the kitchen, watching as it shatters against the wall.

Brody stares at me as if I’ve gone crazy, and Alyssa’s mouth drops open in astonishment. Both my parents come ru

I look around at each of them, their gazes all soaked with sympathy that Casey Markham is hurting and quite possibly going insane.

Brody is the one that acts though. He merely opens his arms up to me, and I burst into tears as I step into my brother’s embrace.

“Feeling better?” Gabby asks as she burrows under my covers beside me in bed. We’re watching our favorite movie, Talladega Nights, and although Gabby snorts and wheezes in laughter every ten minutes or so, I’m staring blankly at the screen.

I look down into my empty wine glass, the fourth of the evening since Brody and Alyssa brought me home. “I’m feeling drunk, not better,” I mutter.

After my meltdown at my parents’ house, Operation Casey went into full effect. Brody comforted me with his strong arms while my mom stroked my hair and cooed words of encouragement to me. My dad made a big production of cursing Te

I climbed out of Brody and Alyssa’s truck, feeling like a wet noodle after I cried for half an hour straight. I immediately felt terrible for being—well, a brat. Te

My immediate regret turned into despair when I realized that my phone was broken beyond repair and I couldn’t amend my words to Te

My immediate thought was to go home and hover over my landline phone, hoping and praying Te

Now all I could do was drink wine, get drunk, and let Gabby and Will Ferrell try to make me feel better.

So far, it wasn’t working.

Logically, I knew Te

Letting my head fall back, it thumps against the headboard and I give what may have been the longest, most pitiful sigh of the evening yet.

“I’m so undeserving of him,” I moan to Casey.

“Oh, shut the fuck up,” she growls at me, never taking her eyes off the television. “You’ll get a new phone, and you’ll call and apologize to him.”

“I can’t afford a new phone,” I whine.

“I’ll buy you one,” she says before finishing the dregs of wine in her glass.

“It won’t matter,” I say despondently. “By the time I get one, he’ll have already found someone else. He’s too good of a man, you know? He won’t stay single for long.”

Gabby gives me a tremendously vicious eye roll but when her eyes come to rest, they aren’t on the movie but rather on me. “Casey… baby… I love you like I love Will Ferrell. But you are really starting to irritate the crap out of me. Where in the hell is the self-assured, take-no-prisoners woman that I grew up with?”

“She got whipped by love,” I tell her with a drunken smile. “My poor heart has been battered by love and I’m not sure it will ever recover. In fact, I’m pretty sure even my ovaries shriveled up and died tonight. I’m a loser.”

She mutters something… I think confirming my loser status, but then reaches over to the nightstand to open up another bottle of wine. Silently, she unscrews the cap—because that’s the way Gabby rolls—and fills her glass up again. She then tops mine off and puts the bottle back.

Reaching out, she clinks the lip of her glass against mine and then takes a sip. I, in turn, take a huge gulp and after I swallow, I lay my head on Gabby’s shoulder.

I’m drunk, I’m sad, and that’s a recipe for tears. They pool in my eyes and with the first blink, start sliding down my face. “I just want the same chance,” I say quietly and maybe a bit slurred.

“Same chance at what?” Gabby asks as she grabs the remote control and pauses the movie. She can tell I’m in a mood for some serious talk.

“Love,” I tell her tremulously. “I want what you and Hunter have. I want what Brody and Alyssa have. Gavin and Sava

She pats my hand briefly then wraps her fingers around mine, giving them a reassuring squeeze. “Casey… trust me on this, please. You are going to have what all of us have. And I’m just optimistic enough for the both of us to know you’re going to have it with Te