He leans over and sniffs my shoulder.
“Jesus, you smell like shit too,” he complains, pulling back and giving me a disgusted look.
I bring the half-empty bottle of whiskey up to my mouth, but Zoe snatches it away and slams it down on the table.
“That’s enough. You’re cut off.”
Glaring at her, I reach for the bottle but she smacks my hand away.
“Nope. No more,” she informs me, sliding the bottle further out of my reach. “We’ve let you sit here feeling sorry for yourself for two days, and it ends now.”
Resting my elbows on the table, I put my head in my hands and close my eyes.
“I fucked up,” I mutter.
“We know,” Ben and Zoe reply in unison.
“I don’t know how to fix it.”
Ben sighs and I drop my hands to the table to look at him.
“I can’t believe you didn’t ask her to stay, man. I thought that’s where your mind was at. I thought that’s what you wanted. Then, the next thing I know, she’s walking off the ship looking like you just kicked her puppy and Brooke is telling me if you’re anywhere around when she comes to see me next month she’ll cut your dick off,” Ben says.
“Why in the hell would I ever ask her to stay? To do what, hang around on the ship and watch me work? She has a life and a job and it’s all back in New York. I don’t fit in her world and she doesn’t fit in mine,” I tell him, knowing I’m lying. Even if I don’t fit into her world, she absolutely fits into mine.
And knowing that right now, I miss her so much and I hurt so much inside without her here that I don’t give a shit who doesn’t fit where. I’ll do whatever it takes to make everything fit.
“I know you don’t believe that shit, so why are you saying it? Who are you trying to convince? Because I damn sure know it’s not true,” Ben argues. “I’ve never seen you so fucking happy. I’ve never seen you want something more than what this ship has to offer. I’m not saying it’s not an awesome thing that you have a goal and a dream. I’m just saying, it’s good to have more than one. It’s good to have something else to come home to when you have a shitty day. She could have been your home, and you fucked it all up because you’re so hung up on the fact that she has money and you don’t.”
I thought I was hung up on that. Allyson made me believe I couldn’t give her what she wanted and I wasn’t good enough for her, but I can’t lie to myself anymore. I might not be able to buy her things, but I can give her something worth a whole hell of a lot more. I can give her my heart and my soul and my promise to do whatever it takes to make her never feel like anything is lacking from her life. I can give her every piece of me and beg her to never let go.
“I’m not hung up on that shit. I was. I mean, I got confused for a little bit, but I know it’s not important. I know she doesn’t care about those things and none of that matters,” I tell Ben quietly.
“Thank fucking God,” Zoe mutters. “I really didn’t want to have to beat the shit out of you to get you to see the light.”
I smile at her, but I don’t have the energy to laugh. My chest is too tight wondering what the hell I’m going to do to get Mackenzie back, and my stomach is starting to churn with all the alcohol I consumed in the last two days.
“How the hell am I going to fix this? I know I was an asshole, but she agreed with me. She told me her life is perfect back in New York. She told me she was just having a moment when she said she hated her job and didn’t know what to do with her life. Am I really supposed to chase after her, ask her to leave her perfect life where she can have anything she wants, and tell her to take a chance, living on a fucking boat with me?” I ask, rambling like an idiot as my heart starts beating faster with nerves.
“Yes, you dumb shit. And she lied.”
All three of us look up at Marcel when he walks into the room, tossing a printout of a New York Times article onto the table in front of us.
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“Since when do you speak English?” Zoe asks in shock.
He ignores her, pressing his palms on top of the table and leaning over it towards me.
“You make a stupid comment about how at least she doesn’t need to worry about going back home, because it’s not like she needs to really work anyway, and you’re surprised she didn’t tell you the truth? You lied, so she lied. Stop being a dumb shit and get your head out of your ass,” Marcel scolds, smacking his hand against the newspaper article and sliding it closer to me.
“Dude, you told her it’s not like she needs to work anyway? Ouch. No wonder you’ve been bathing in whiskey and Brooke wants to cut off your balls,” Ben mutters.
“Oh, my God,” I whisper, all of that whiskey Ben mentioned bubbling in my stomach and threatening to come right back up all over the table when I see the headline for the front page story in the Times and the corresponding article.
“Mark Armstrong, multi-millionaire and owner of Armstrong Industries, the industry leader in software applications, filed for bankruptcy yesterday morning after the culmination of a six-month long investigation,” Zoe reads over my shoulder. “The investigation, led by his daughter, Mackenzie Armstrong, resulted in indisputable proof that Mr. Armstrong’s wife of one year, Allyson Drake-Swanson-Armstrong, has been funneling money from Armstrong Industries, as well as Mr. Armstrong’s personal accounts, into offshore foreign accounts, for the entirety of their marriage. Charges are being brought against Mrs. Drake-Swanson-Armstrong and she is currently being held at Albion Correctional Facility in Albion, New York until trial. Mrs. Drake-Swanson-Armstrong’s daughter, Arianna, has entered into a plea bargain, swearing she had no knowledge of her mother’s deeds, and is hoping to have all charges against her dropped. The prosecution is still trying to uncover where all of Mr. Armstrong’s money disappeared, but it looks like Armstrong Industries will be closing its doors for good after this weekend, letting go of over three-hundred and seventy-five employees, including Mr. Armstrong’s daughter. Mr. Armstrong and his daughter are currently out of the country, and unavailable to comment on the possibility that Mr. Armstrong will also find himself doing jail time, due to his inability to pay his business and personal federal taxes.”