47|Vegas
Two Days Later
The bass was pounding so hard it felt like it was rattling my spine.
I didn't even know what song was playing.
Or how many drinks I had.
Or how the fuck we ended up in Vegas.
I just knew my throat was burning from the liquor, and my head was swimming with static and fog.
Kyle was somewhere on the dance floor, grinding on a girl with braids and legs for days.
He flashed me a thumbs-up like we were twenty-one again and none of this shit mattered.
I leaned against the bar, gripping the edge like it could anchor me.
Then I saw her.
Dark curls.
Gold hoops.
That same slow, confident, and dangerous walk.
Naomi.
My heart slammed against my ribs as I pushed through the crowd, ignoring the voices, the lights, the sweat, and perfume clinging to every body I brushed past.
"Naomi!" I said, turning my wife around.
When she did, it wasn't her.
It wasn't even close.
She smiled as she pressed her body against mine. "Call me whatever you want, sexy."
I blinked before stumbling back.
"I'm sorry," I muttered.
That's when Kyle appeared, grabbing me by the arm and tugging me away like I was embarrassing him.
"Bro, what the hell are you doing?" he half-laughed, half-scolded. "You can't be pulling chicks like that when you're this drunk."
"You looked like you were about to get into serious trouble with your wife," he laughed.
I rubbed my face, disoriented, my vision doubling. "I thought it was her," I muttered. "I thought-"
Kyle didn't hear me over the music or maybe he just didn't care.
He clapped a hand on my back.
"Come on, man. Just chill. You need water. Or a nap. Or both."
But that's not what I needed.
I needed Naomi.
"I need my wife," I muttered and he frowned.
"Still can't find your phone?" He asked and I shook my head.
I couldn't even tell if it was lost or stolen.
He handed me his. "Call her."
"Thanks, man," I said before rushing to find a quiet spot.
I dialed her number by heart, and held it to my ear.
She picked up almost immediately.
"Hello?" Her familiar voice answered eagerly and my body instantly felt weak.
I didn't know how much I'd missing hearing that voice.
"Naomi?" I whispered, my head feeling dizzy.
"Nate!?" She shouted excitedly, making me pull the phone away from my ear. "Guys, it's Nate!"
"Nate!?" I heard a few voices shout in the background.
"Oh my gosh, where are you!?" She eagerly asked and I looked around. "I'll come and get you right now."
"I don't know," I muttered as I looked around. "Vegas, I think."
I swallowed hard when she didn't reply.
In the silence, everything began to hit again.
The drinking. The coke. The ghost I'd been chasing. The lie I'd lived with for most of my life.
My chest tightened.
"Naomi, I'm scared," I whispered. "What is wrong with me?"
The line went quiet again, but I could hear her...barely.
A tiny, choked breath.
A stifled sob.
She was trying not to cry.
Trying to be strong for me.
But I could feel her falling apart, too.
My wife had to try to be strong because I'm a wreck.
"Nothing," she finally said, her voice trembling.
"There's nothing wrong with you, Nate. You're just... hurting. And I'm so sorry you've had to do it alone."
"I'm so sorry I didn't tell you," she cried.
I clenched my jaw, fighting back the tears burning behind my eyes.
"I can't think straight," I muttered. "I'm losing it."
The feelings began to get too strong again and I quickly gave into my urges.
"I can't do this," I told her. "I-I have to go."
"Baby, no, wait-"
Before she could finish her sentence, I ended the call and rushed to find some sort of relief.