Lost Me, Gained Regret (Jane and Bryant Ferguson)

Glancing at the clock, it was already past 2 AM. Wasn't Bryant supposed to have left work with Margaret? Instead, he ended up grabbing drinks with Steven, and from what Steven implied, Margaret wasn't there.

Calling Steven again only led to the realization his phone was dead, probably out of battery.

Left with no choice, I changed and hailed a cab to their usual hangout spot, a private club they often frequented.

By the time I arrived, the crowd had mostly dispersed. Only Steven and Mark remained in the private room alongside Bryant, sprawled on a couch, dressed in a designer suit, his long legs crossed, deep in slumber.

Seeing me, Steven gave me a helpless look. "Jane, I don't know what got into Bryant today. He kept egging Mark on to drink, and we couldn't make him stop."

I had a hunch about what might have triggered it. Bryant was still stubbornly convinced that there was something between Mark and me.

It seemed all men might share this trait. They could mess around all they wanted, but they'd never allow even a hint of infidelity from their wives, even if such a hint was nothing but baseless suspicion.

I shot an apologetic glance at Mark, who looked refined and gentle even in his drunken state. "Mark, are you okay? I brought some hangover pills. Do you want some?"

His eyes were hazy from the alcohol. "Sure."

As Mark regained a bit of sobriety and looked up at me, his cheeks flushed and eyes sparkling like a kid waiting for candy, I placed the pill in his palm and handed him a glass of water. "I'm so sorry you had to drink so much."

"You're telling me," he lamented. "Bryant wouldn't stop pouring, and despite our attempts to intervene, he drank everything handed to him!"

Steven was venting, and before I could process it all, he handed me the car keys. "You can drive, right?"

"Yeah," I said.

Approaching Bryant, I braced myself against the smell of alcohol and gently tapped his face. "Bryant, wake up. It's time to go home."

He frowned in annoyance and broke into a dazed smile upon seeing it was me. "Honey."

As he spoke, he enveloped my hand in his. His palm was cool.

Steven's laughter grew louder, clearly amused, "See, Jane? Good thing I didn't call Margaret. She'd be furious."

Only Mark, sitting in the corner, remained silent throughout.

I attempted to withdraw my hand, but Bryant's drunken strength was surprisingly formidable, and he wouldn't budge. So, I let it be.

With Steven's help, we got Bryant into the car before Steven turned to assist a similarly inebriated Mark.

Once in the driver's seat, the first thing I did was roll down the windows. I used to be indifferent to the smell of alcohol, but tonight, it was making me nauseous.

The roads were empty at this hour. Woken up in the middle of the night, on top of the day's frustrations, I found myself aggressively alternating between the gas and brake pedals.

Uncomfortable with the bumpy ride, Bryant mumbled in protest, "Kevin, slow down!"

"I can't slow down," I retorted without thinking.

"Ugh..." Bryant felt like vomiting.

"Don't you dare throw up," I instantly felt goosebumps.

"Ugh..." Bryant continued.

"Swallow it!" I was beyond annoyed. I've always had a strong aversion to seeing or hearing people vomit, and being pregnant only made it worse.

Without a doubt, I'd lose my dinner if he threw up.

"Burp!"

Hearing him belch and then quiet down finally relaxed my tense nerves.