Ridge pulls his hand back and looks up at them. Maggie’s arms are draped across Warren’s shoulders, and she’s laughing at nothing in particular. Warren keeps trying to grab the back of the booth—it looks as if he’s about to need support, too, but he can’t seem to grasp anything. Ridge and I both stand up and assist them. Ridge pulls Maggie off Warren, and I wrap Warren’s arm around my shoulders. He presses his forehead to mine.
“Syd, I’m so happy you got cheated on. I’m so happy you moved in.”
I laugh and push his face away from mine. Ridge nods his head toward the exit, and I nod in agreement. Another drink, and we would probably have to carry these two out.
“I like that dress you wear, Syd. That blue one? But please don’t wear it again.” Warren is leaning his head against mine as we make our way toward the stairs. “I don’t like your ass in it, because I think I might love Bridgette, and your dress makes me love your ass.”
Wow. He’s really drunk if he’s admitting that he might love Bridgette.
“I already told you I was burning that dress,” I say, laughing.
“Good,” he says with a sigh.
We reach the exit, and I notice Ridge is carrying Maggie now. Her arms are draped around his neck, and her eyes are closed. Once we reach the car, she opens her eyes as Ridge tries to stand her up. She attempts to take a step but ends up stumbling. Ridge opens the back door, and she practically falls inside. He scoots her to the other side of the seat, and she falls against the door, closing her eyes again. Ridge steps out of the way and motions for Warren to climb in. Warren steps forward and reaches up to Ridge’s face. He pats Ridge’s cheek and says, “I feel bad for you, buddy. I bet it’s really hard not to kiss Sydney, cuz it’s hard for me, and I don’t even like her like you do.”
Warren climbs inside the car and falls against Maggie. I’m thankful that he was too drunk to sign any of that, because I know that Ridge didn’t understand what he said. I can tell by the confused look Ridge is giving me. He laughs and bends down, lifting Warren’s leg, which is still hanging out of the car. He pushes it inside the car and closes the door, and my mind is still stuck on Warren’s words.
Ridge reaches in front of me and pulls on the handle of the front passenger door, then opens it. I step forward, but the second Ridge’s hand rests against my lower back, I pause.
I glance up at him, and he’s looking straight down at me. His hand remains on my lower back as I force myself to slowly close the gap between myself and the car. The second I begin to lower myself into the seat, his hand slips away, and he waits until I’m all the way inside the car, then closes the door.
I lean my head back into the seat and close my eyes, terrified of what that simple gesture just did to me.
I hear him take his position behind the wheel, and the car cranks, but I continue to keep my eyes closed. I don’t want to look at him. I don’t want to feel what I feel when I look at him. I don’t like how every minute I spend with him, I feel more and more like a Tori.
My phone receives a text, so I’m forced to open my eyes. Ridge is holding his phone, watching me.
Ridge: She doesn’t do this a lot. Probably not even three times a year. She’s been under a lot of stress lately, and she likes to go out. It helps.
Me: I wasn’t judging her.
Ridge: I know. I just wanted you to know she’s not a raging alcoholic like I am.
He winks at me, and I laugh. I glance into the backseat, where Warren is draped across Maggie. They’re both out cold. I turn back around in my seat and text him again.
Me: Thank you for telling me all that earlier. You didn’t have to, and I know you probably didn’t want to, but thank you.
He gives me a sideways glance, then returns his attention to his phone.