Page 220 of Darling Venom

---

I guess even this place had morals.

More morals than I did, at least.

“Or I can call you a cab,” he offered.

“Charlie,” I mumbled. “Call Charlie.”

He plucked my finger from its death grip on the dirty bartop and used it to unlock my phone, speaking into it after a moment.

“

Is this Charlie…? No, it’s Luke. I’m a bartender… Your friend is here with me. He’s plastered. Told me to call Charlie to come get him. You’re the only Charlie in his phone. Actually, you’re one of two numbers in his phone. Not a popular guy, is he…? We’re at The Office… No, The Office… No, the bar is called The Office… All right. See ya, Charles.”

He dropped the device back in my palm, and I didn’t remember when he’d taken it. My head fell to the bartop.

Sticky.

So fucking sticky.

I breathed in the scent of booze and peanuts, wondering what this place did when someone with a nut allergy walked in. Seemed like a lawsuit waiting to happen.

Fingertips grazed my shoulder.

Scratched it.

Then pinched it when I didn’t budge.

I groaned out a curse, blinking my eyes against the bar top. When had I fallen asleep?

I lifted my head.

Turned to the owner of the fingers.

Charlie.

I blinked, trying to figure out if I was imagining her. I did that sometimes. Imagined her near me when she wasn’t. Especially looking like she did now. So beautiful, she couldn’t be real.

Why was she here?

I didn’t need her to mother hen me.

Or see me behaving like Terry.

“Oh, Tate.” She sighed, and yes, she was here.

Charlie actually came.

So, this was what it felt like to have someone to depend on. It took me a while to recognize the feeling as happiness because I’d spent the past four or so years devoid of it.

“Charlie.”

She reached out. Her knuckles grazed my cheek.

“Let’s get you home, Dr. Marchetti.”

“He’s a doctor?” the bartender chimed in. “Wouldn’t want him to be my doctor.”

“Wrong reproductive system,” I mumbled, turning back to Charlie. “You’re not gonna ask why I’m here?”

---