“You okay?” Audrey shouted at her over the music.
Like she could say anything to Audrey? Audrey was always perfect. She always made the right decisions. Daphne nodded and shoved her way out. “Can’t stay,” she called back, but it was probably drowned out over peals of laughter and catcalls as another dancer headed their way.
Daphne burst out of the club a few moments later, and the chill of the New York City streets in December hit her like a wall. She rubbed her arms, realizing her coat was still inside. Didn’t matter. She’d buy a new one. She couldn’t go back in there. Not with all those drinks and everyone having fun and Daphne realizing she could never, ever do that again. Not if she wanted to stay sober.
The thought was so depressing she burst into tears. She pressed a hand to her forehead and wandered away a few feet, trying to get away from the surging, thumping music. People walked past her, ignoring her. Even the bouncer that had been so thrilled to meet her earlier was busy stamping hands and flirting. She was alone.
And she really, really wanted a drink, a cigarette, and a hit of some good nose candy. All together. Fuck.
She sobbed again and then swiped at her runny nose. God, she was such a mess. What was she going to do when Wesley left her? How long would she be strong without him? The thought made her even more melancholy and she continued weeping as she wrapped her arms tight around herself and walked toward the nearest subway station.
But when she turned the corner?
Wesley was there.
He was wearing a thick jacket, his running shoes, and a knowing look on his face. He pushed off of the wall he’d been leaning against and moved toward her, shrugging off his jacket and wrapping it around her.
“You were s-s-spying on me?” Daphne wept, swiping at her face.
He shook his head. “I just knew how it’d go. Thought I’d wait for you.”
That made her feel worse. He’d known she was going to break. “Dammit.” She shivered into his jacket. “I hate that you were right.”
“I hate that I was, too.” He put a comforting arm around her shoulders. “Come on. Why don’t we get a bite to eat?”
Oh god, that sounded too good to be true. She burrowed under his arm. “Pancakes?”
“No, but there’s a great little vegan place around the corner that stays open late and has some wonderful healthy choices.”
Typical Wesley. She didn’t even groan. She wasn’t surprised. And actually, it felt nice to know that no matter how much she crumbled, he was ironclad and unchanging. Wesley didn’t let her break.
By the time they were seated in the quiet little restaurant, Daphne’s tears had mostly turned to sniffles, and she had a cup of hot green tea in her hands. She was feeling more normal, too. She didn’t even protest when Wesley ordered tofu lettuce wraps and two cups of spiced lentil soup for both of them. It wasn’t pancakes, but that was okay, too.
Wesley didn’t drink his own tea. He just studied Daphne with a look that was so understanding that it made her ache. “Do you want to talk about it?”
She shook her head, but began to talk anyhow. “I . . . they were all drinking,” she said, and rubbed her face with one hand. “And at first it didn’t bother me, but then they just kept drinking and they were having so much fun and it was like . . . an itch under the skin. I kept watching them because I couldn’t drink, and the more that I wanted it, the easier it felt like it would be to break.”
“But you didn’t?”
“I didn’t,” she agreed, and was stupidly pleased when that small, rare smile returned to Wesley’s hard mouth. “I really, really fucking wanted to. And I knew if I stayed, I’d have just one drink. And that one drink would turn into two, and then ten, and then they’d be picking my plastered ass up off the floor at closing time and a month from now I’d be back in rehab.” She sighed and picked up her teacup and took a sip. Unsweetened, but the bitterness was kind of soothing. “I hate that I’m so weak.”
“It’s not that you’re weak,” Wesley corrected. He reached over and brushed his hand over hers. “It’s that you put yourself in a situation where it’d be impossible to remain strong. You were smart enough to realize it and got out of there. It’s not about being weak. It’s about avoiding the situations that make you feel as if you’ll fail.”
Was that why he was such a disciplined hard-ass? She kept still, because his hand was still on hers on the table, and she didn’t want to ruin that. It was rare for Wesley to touch her, and she hadn’t realized until now how much she’d been craving it. So she held her tea with her other hand and gave him a sad little smile. “When does it get easier?”
“Never. It never gets easier.” Again, his hand brushed over hers. “But you get stronger.”
That sounded . . . depressing. “At least I got to see my sisters.” Her phone buzzed in her pocket. “They’re probably upset I left early.”
“They’ll understand when you tell them why,” he said, and pulled away. He picked up his own tea and then glanced out the window at the snowy streets.
She looked outside, following his gaze. A restaurant across the way was covered with holiday decor, a menorah in one window and a Christmas tree in the other. “I’m sorry you had to spend your evening waiting for me.” Not that she was in the club long. Less than a half hour, she wagered.
He shrugged his big shoulders and gave the waitress a nod as she set the cups of soup down in front of them. “You’re my job, Daphne. Of course I’m going to be here for you. That’s what I do.”