Mr. Sin: Book One of the Sin Series

It only took one-and-a-half margaritas before Jessica started to ask me about Vincent. And it only took one, and a half more for me to spill all the sordid details.

I’ve always liked Jessica, and we’ve been ‘work friends’ for years, but I think tonight brought our friendship to a new level. She’s just so easy-going, without a single judgmental bone in her body. I can honestly admit that I’m happy she found us at BeanBag the other morning. I feel so much lighter after talking to her.

And drunker. Holy fuckballs, I’m feeling drunker.

“Babe…” Jessica draws the word out as we stumble our way into the backseat of my chauffeured car. “This ride is pimpin’!”

We both crack up.

“Who says pimpin’ anymore?” I snicker.

She shrugs. “I dunno. Who rides around with a driver and a bodyguard anymore?”

I hum in agreement. “Good point.”

Eric shuts the door behind me and slides into the front passenger seat. He’s stone cold sober, of course. On the job, and all that. Thankfully, we were able to convince him to sit a few tables away so we could talk in private. He was a good sport about it. And a good sport when I asked if we could give Jessica a ride home.

The driver doesn’t even bat an eye with the addition of a new drunk person in the car. I should thank him, but I don’t recognize him. The drivers seem to shift a lot, but they’ve all been kind.

Jessica leans forward between the seats, pouting lower lip on display. “Why are you sitting way up there, Kevin?”

Eric’s mouth opens and closes, clearly unsure if he should correct her.

I succumb to another round of giggles and attempt a whisper to Jessica. “It’s Eric, not Kevin.”

Jessica throws her hands up, nearly clocking me in the face. “I know that. But come on. The Bodyguard. Whitney Houston. Kevin Costner.”

“I never saw it,” I admit. “But Eric isn’t my love interest. Vincent is.”

Jessica sighs dramatically. “Work with me girl. In my fantasy, I’m Whitney Houston.”

I can’t help myself. “Isn’t she dead?”

Jessica gapes at me in horror. “Oh my god, too soon! And I wouldn’t be dead if stud muffin Eric Costner up there did his job and bodyguarded me!”

She can only fake her outrage for a second, before we’re both a mess of laughter. This, ladies and gentlemen, is what sloppy drunk looks like.

A throat clears from the front seat. “Miss, can you tell me your address?” Eric asks, still facing straight ahead.

Miss? Jessica mouths to me with a grin, before rattling off her address. And she’s right to be pleased. I’d take miss any day over being called ma’am.

I’m not sure if the drive was super short, or if my drunkenness made me lose track of time, but, sooner than expected – the car pulls over in front of Jessica’s house. It’s a cute little bungalow with an abundance of flowers pouring from every corner of her tiny yard.

“Oh wow! Your flowers are amazing!” I make a move to unbuckle my seatbelt.

Eric turns in his seat to look at me. “You’re staying here.”

“But, her garden…”

He raises a hand. “I’m sure her garden is lovely.” Jessica and I both start to snicker, and I see Eric’s jaw tick. “It’s getting dark, and I need to get you home.”

Jessica pulls me in for a hug, but we’re both still buckled in so it’s more of a lean. “We’ll have a girls’ day soon and you can play in my garden all you want. The boys can sit on the sidewalk and guard the perimeter. And serve us mimosas.”

“Deal.” I grin.

Jessica’s door opens and Eric stands there with his hand out. With great concentration, Jessica unclips herself and climbs out of the car.

Eric looks like he’s going to walk her to her door, and when Jessica sways and tips against him, I realize his actions might be just as much out of necessity as chivalry.

Before he steps away Eric leans into the car. “Stay put.” Then to the driver he says, “Lock the doors.”

Watching the two of them walk away, I think about how much calmer I feel. I hadn’t realized my emotions were quite so tumultuous. It makes sense though. After retelling the tale, I think I’m finally comprehending just how much has happened. It feels like that night in Vegas, with Mr. Idiot accosting me in the bar, was a lifetime ago. But really it wasn’t. Then I didn’t see Vincent again for another month, which of course turned into quite the collision. Followed up with a whole bunch of sexual tension. Some illicit encounters. The introduction of a daughter I didn’t even know he had. And suddenly, I’m knee deep in family life. Talking about periods. Watching movies. Having dinner with his mother. Toss in a dose of breaking-and-entering, a 24/7 bodyguard, and keeping my relationship a secret from my boss, and you have the perfect recipe for a mental breakdown.

And yet, I don’t feel like breaking down at all. I feel… happy. I feel a level of happiness that I hadn’t known I was missing. I wasn’t unhappy before all of this. At least, I don’t think I was. But I definitely wasn’t living my best life. That’s the thing about people. They bring complications and heartache and stress. But they also bring joy and pleasure and purpose. I still feel like me, but I feel more. I feel complete.

The dome light turning on announces Eric’s return to the car. He’s silent, and even more still than usual. And I wonder just how long I zoned out, and just how long he was in the house with Jessica.