Page 26 of Notes About Vodka (Happily Ever After Hangover #1)

Chapter Fourteen

VAL

“In some cultures, heavy vodka consumption is normalized or even encouraged, making it difficult to address the related health and social issues. This cultural acceptance can hinder public health efforts to reduce alcohol abuse.”

I still can’t believe I talked to my parents last night.

Laura’s idea came out of nowhere.

After months of avoiding them, I can’t believe I finally got the guts to call them up and tell them how things were going. It felt surreal, like I was suddenly facing a part of my past I’d been running from. But having Laura there gave me courage I didn’t know I had.

They didn’t ask too many questions about my stuck-in-America situation—thankfully—but it felt good to reconnect. It felt like I was getting a piece of my life back, a piece I hadn’t even realized how much I missed .

And Laura was right there beside me when I hung up, smiling at me like I’d just won a gold medal.

That smile is something else. It’s like a shot of warmth straight to my chest, a reminder that maybe, just maybe, its okay that I am here and not there.

We ended up crashing on my couch.

Cuddling, talking, but mostly just...being close.

There was this moment—this look she gave me—which said she wanted more, but the excitement of the day, the emotional rollercoaster of the phone call, and the late hour completely killed my libido.

I was tired.

So tired I could barely keep my eyes open. I kissed her anyways, soft and slow, feeling her breath warm against my lips, but then I pulled back and told her I was too worn out for anything else.

She laughed, half disappointed, I think, half understanding, and we settled into each other, her body warm against mine. I could feel her heartbeat, steady and calming; it made me feel like I was home.

Holding her felt good, like this weird sense of peace I hadn’t known I needed. But the tossing and turning started almost immediately.

I’m a restless sleeper, and the last thing I wanted was to keep her up all night.

But, apparently I did. I kept waking up, adjusting my position, trying not to disturb her, but I knew I was failing.

So, when I started shifting too much and muttering in my sleep, she got up, grabbed a pillow, and disappeared into my guest room.

I followed her—not to invade her space, but to make sure she was comfortable. I ended up tucking her in. I don’t know why, but it felt right. Like, if I couldn’t sleep next to her, the least I could do was make sure she was tucked in tight .

She looked up at me, sleepy but smiling, and I could tell she wasn’t mad or anything.

Just tired, like me. She whispered, "Goodnight, Valerie," and there was something so tender in her voice that it made my chest tighten.

It was like she was giving me permission to care for her, even in the smallest of ways.

When I woke up in my cold bed this morning, I wish I would have stayed, wrapped around her warm body. I imagine what it would be like to wake up with her soft hair in my face, her back pressed into my chest as my hands play her body like she plays the piano.

Now, its early afternoon and here we are, walking to work together.

Strolling side by side through the city streets like it’s something we do all the time. I still feel like I’m floating. We stayed up way too late talking about everything and nothing at all.

The way she listens, the way she laughs—it makes all the noise in my head go quiet for once. The city is bustling around us, but it feels like we’re in our own little bubble, and I don’t want it to pop.

"You good?" Laura nudges me with her elbow, a smirk on her lips as we wait for the crosswalk light to change. Her eyes are the brightest blue, very little gray, in the early morning light, and I can’t help but grin.

Especially since I she's wearing one of my black shirts until we get to Pianissimo where she leaves a few dresses like many of the other wait staff in her personal locker.

"Yeah, just thinking," I reply, grinning back at her. "Last night... It was good."

"Yeah? Good enough to finally pass out for a few hours just as the sun comes up," she teases, her eyes sparkling with amusement.

"Hey, I was wiped out, okay? You try having a conversation with my parents and see how much energy you have afterward." I shove my hands into my pockets, still kind of amazed that I actually called them. There’s this strange lightness in my chest, a feeling of relief I haven’t known in a long time.

"Your mom seemed nice," she says, bumping her shoulder against mine as we start walking again. Her voice is softer, like she’s genuinely curious, and I like that she cares.

"She is," I admit, feeling a warmth spread through me. "She asked about you, you know."

Laura raises an eyebrow, looking at me sideways. “Oh, yeah? What’d you tell her?"

I shrug, trying to play it cool, though my heart is pounding a little faster. "Just that you were a friend."

She rolls her eyes but smiles. "Right. A friend ."

I chuckle, shaking my head. "Hey, I didn’t want to get ahead of myself. Say too much, and she will be planning our wedding and well, you are still…you know. So, baby steps, okay?"

“Hey, Val. I get it. Thank you for letting me meet them. Maybe one day I’ll get to say ‘Hi’ in person.” Her voice is gentle, hopeful, and I can see the sincerity in her eyes. It makes me think that maybe, just maybe, she’s the girl I take home to meet my family.

We reach Pianissimo , and as I hold the door open for her, I can't shake the feeling that something’s shifted between us. We’re closer, even though we didn’t take that next step last night. And that feels...good.

Different, but good.

There’s no rush with Laura, no pressure. She gets me, and that’s rare. So rare. It’s like we’re building something solid, something that can stand the test of whatever life throws at us.

Even when I get in my own way sometimes…

As we step inside, the familiar hum of the bar welcomes us.

Separately we get ready. As the night gets busy and she goes on stage, I get a glance at Laura, who’s already wearing her game face for work.

I catch a flicker of something in her eyes, they are a softer blue tonight now that we are inside with the dark gray dress she has on.

Its gauzy, soft. But that flicker of her eyes, the one that catches the gold flecks you can only see when you pay close enough attention, maybe it’s hope or maybe its excitement, but there’s something more in her eyes.

It’s like she’s letting her guard down, just a little for me, and it makes me want to do the same. I smile back when she first smiles at me.

I want to ask her about it, to reach out and touch her arm, to tell her that I feel it too—that we’re building something real here. But for now, I just let it sit there between us. Whatever it is, we’ve got time to figure it out. There’s no Russian, but me!

At closing, as I wipe down the bar at Pianissimo , I can’t shake the thought that maybe Laura was disappointed by not getting more last night.

She’s hard to read sometimes, and I’m constantly second-guessing myself.

Did she want to go further last night? Was she hoping for something…

more? The questions swirl in my head, and I find myself questioning why this matters so much to me.

I’ve never felt this kind of pressure before—to be what someone needs.

I’m left wondering if I’m doing enough—if I’m being enough for her.

But my overthinking screeches to a halt when I hear Tony say something that makes my blood pressure spike. His voice cuts through the hum of the bar, loud and brash, and I feel my body tense up instantly. Something’s not right, and I know I need to focus.

Laura’s here, and I need to protect whatever this is between us .

I glance at her, catching her eyes for just a second, and there’s that blue softness again—something that tells me we’re okay.

And that’s enough to keep me steady, to keep me going as a blast from my past waltzes into the restaurant.

“Hey, Val,” Tony says, grinning like the smug bastard he is. “Did you hear that Roqui’s back? What happened between you two, you were great together.”

I freeze, mid-wipe, my balls tighten up and shrink inside my ass. I shoot another quick glance at Laura, who’s behind the counter restocking the cocktail napkins, she must be sneaking me a note...

Her body stiffens on Tony’s comment, but she doesn’t look at me. I can almost feel the tension rolling off her, a mix of curiosity, annoyance, and maybe even fear.

Tony, of course, just keeps going. "Hell, maybe you already are hooking up again. You two had some chemistry, didn’t you?" He’s baiting me, and it’s working. I hate the way his words hang in the air, leaving Laura to wonder.

I clear my throat, setting the rag down a little harder than I meant to. “Yeah, we did, but it didn’t mean anything. It wasn’t this organic, all-consuming feeling that leaves you obsessesed, hungover, wanting more. With Roq, it was casual, blowing steam while I was waiting for my one, that’s all.”

Laura doesn’t storm off immediately, but I can see the shift in her posture, like she’s trying to hide how much what is being said bothers her.

The way her shoulders tense, her fingers still for just a moment—it’s enough to know she’s hurting.

I want to say something, stop her before she bolts, but then, she balls up her fists and walks out before I get the chance. Damn it. BLET!

I watch her disappear into the back, and frustration gnaws at me. It’s like I can see her slipping away, and I’m helpless to stop it. I clench my jaw, my thoughts racing. I need to make her understand, but how?

Not even five minutes later, Roqui waltzes in like she owns the place. She’s got that confident girl swagger that demands attention, her dark black hair is pulled back, her almost lime green eyes bright with excitement.