Chapter 5

It's been almost a year since I'd met and befriended Alex. To say I've grown extremely fond of him would be a profound understatement. He was my best friend. One of three. And even though he was a year older than me, I felt protective of him. It probably had to do with how tormented he was by his ex's betrayal when I first met him; it brought out the nurturer in me. That's why it killed me to see him the way he was now.

What started as a man with a broken heart nursing a beer over his woes became a man drowning his sorrows in a different warm body every night, which he grew out of but quickly returned to. That phase lasted until about two months ago when I noticed a change in him. It was gradual and took me weeks longer than it should have, and for that I was sorry.

He became paranoid about everything and everyone, constantly worrying that there was some sort of Machiavellian plot against him. He also became quiet, introspective and withdrawn; his old sunny disposition, easy smile, all but gone. He disappeared for days on end, calling neither his brother nor me; re-emerging only when he ran out of money. He also became confrontational, testy and took offense to the slightest things. When he became progressively more aggressive and verbally abusive, I began dreading his calls. Suddenly, I found myself making excuses for why I couldn't hang out and let more and more of his calls go to voicemail,

Instead of recognizing the signs as what they were - a drowning man desperately trying to stay afloat - I avoided him and gave him less and less of my time. And for that, I was even more sorry.

February 3, 2014

"Babe, can you pass me my phone?" I mumbled groggily to Preston Pardloe, my fiancé.

God, it still felt weird calling him that. We met one gorgeous Saturday afternoon in July. He was tossing a football back and forth with his friends, I was having an impromptu picnic with mine, when he knocked me over on my ass. After blinking away the stars, I looked up to find a pair of tawny eyes staring apologetically down at me. Dark chocolate colored hair, a strong nose, and full lips; he was very handsome. But it didn't change the fact that he knocked me on my ass, so I reamed him a new one. He apologized over dinner and drinks, and after six months together, he proposed at the same spot we met in Central Park.

We've been engaged for less than two weeks and alternated between his condo in the city and my house in Brooklyn. Though lately, we did end up staying over at his place more often than mine. He said his was a closer commute to work, and although it was true, I had a nagging suspicion that he found Brooklyn, and my 'hood more specifically, to be low rent due to the recent influx of immigrants. If that turned out to be the case then he was in for the surprise of a lifetime, because I never planned on moving out of the house where my parents spent their happiest moments together.

"It's just going to be Alex," he grumbled, "I don't know why you haven't cut the loser out of your life yet, Susannah."

Here we go again, I thought with a sigh.

I rolled to the right side of the bed, which he somehow always managed to maneuver me out of because he liked sleeping on that side as well. "He's my friend. One of my best friends. You don't abandon your best friend when they need you the most. And for the last time, can you please not call him that? I never disrespect your friends in front of you, is it so much to ask that you show the same modicum of respect for me?"

"It is when said friend only calls your fiancée to cry about his pathetic excuse for a life or when he needs to borrow money from her. Which he never returns, might I add."

Ignoring him, I grabbed my phone off of the nightstand, climbed back over to the left side of the bed, and sat up. "Hey, Alex. Is everything alright?"

"I'm sorry for calling so late. I, I can't sleep. Is it alright if you stayed on the phone with me for awhile? Just, just for a few minutes?" He whispered, frantically.

God, he sounded so broken. Hadley, his ex, was truly the gift that kept on giving. He started to get over her about two months after we met. He even started seeing Thalia seriously and stopped fucking around. Then, in July, Hadley showed up at his apartment in tears; she was three months pregnant and said she didn't know who the father was. Remy kicked her out (which made no sense to me since he knew she was dating Alex when he slept with her) and she had nowhere to go. Alex was torn. He was finally happy again and found a woman he wanted to explore the possibilities of a future with. Thalia adored him and we all adored her for bringing him back to life.

But Alex was a good guy - a responsible one who always did the right thing. Against his brother's wishes, he took Hadley into the apartment he shared with Eric and broke things off with Thalia. Two months later, Hadley got an abortion and went back to Remy, obliterating whatever remnants of Alex's already broken heart she'd left behind the first time. Uncertain of whether the baby was his or not, Alex not only mourned for his lost love, but for the promise of what might have been as well.*

I slipped out of bed and, after putting on a thin cardigan, made my way down the hall to Preston's guest room. "Of course I can,"

Immediately turning on the light to the room, I closed the door and sat on the foot of the bed.

"Is everything alright?" I asked, repeating my earlier question.

I heard what sounded like the drag of a cigarette, then a long, shaky exhale.

There was nothing but silence, and I patiently waited and allowed him the time to collect his thoughts.

Then, finally, he whispered, "It would've been a month old today."

My breath caught.

"Oh, sweetie..." I whispered, nose burning with unshed tears.

I sat there with my friend, on opposite ends of our phones, mourning the loss of what could have been, and I cried with him until the sun peeked over the horizon.

February 14, 2014

"Hey, babe," I spoke into the phone, toeing off my heels and unzipping my slacks, "I'm going to be a little late tonight."

Preston sighed.

I felt a twinge of annoyance but really, I couldn't blame him. Lately, it seemed as if all I've been doing was calling to tell him I was held up at work or to cancel our dates completely.

The frustration was evident in his voice when he replied, "There's a six month waiting list to dine there. Do you know how many favors I've had to call in to secure our reservation for tonight?"

"I know, I know. I really am sorry. I promise I'll try to hurry." I said, removing my bra and shimmying into the red dress I bought for the occasion.

"Is it Alex?"

I didn't respond.

Preston cursed. "Of course this is about Alex. When is it not about Alex? I'll be eating without you if you're not there by 8."

Then he hung up.

I tried, I really really tried quell the resentment I felt towards my friend. I knew he needed me but fuck my life, my relationship with my fiancé was hanging by a thread as it was.

Sighing, I pulled my hair into a messy chignon and called a car service to send a car. By the time I heard the driver honking, I'd already applied smokey eyes and a little foundation to my face and was slicking on a thin layer of nude gloss to my lips. I grabbed my already transferred Yves Saint Laurent patent leather chain strap purse and slid my feet into my patent leather Louboutin cage heels. Then, I slipped into my hip length black fur coat, tied the leather sash around my waist, and climbed into the back of the black Lincoln Town Car waiting outside of my house.

Nearly an hour and a half later, I was greeted and let in by Barry, the doorman, and rode the elevator up to the 39th floor apartment that Alex shared with his brother Eric.

The door to their place was wide open and I could hear yelling as I made my way out of the elevator.

"Where the fuck is it?" Alex demanded.

Unsure of the situation I suddenly found myself in, I hesitated at their doorway. It was futile; Alex saw me and, grabbing ahold of my wrist, yanked me inside and slammed the door shut.

I barely had enough time to process the fact that my arm felt like it was fire when I found myself thrown against a wall.

"Sook, spot me, yeah? I'll pay you back next time." Alex said frantically.

His eyes were wild, his hair an unwashed, greasy mess. The beginnings of a beard was already settling in on what used to be an always clean shaven face. The bags under his eyes in combination with his sunken cheeks and disturbingly sallow complexion painted the picture of a man who endured a lifetime of hard living, not the privileged one working towards his MBA at NYU Stern I'd met a year ago.

He didn't wait for my reply before he pulled my purse from my shoulder and began pilfering through it, grabbing the two hundred dollar bills I'd kept on me for emergencies and what little change I had leftover from my fare.

Before I could mutter a word, Alex was wrenched away from me and slammed into the wall adjacent to mine. My heart pounding, I looked over to find Eric towering over his little brother with a hand wrapped around his throat.

Face twisted in a mixture of anguish and fury, Eric leaned into Alex and bellowed, "The fuck is wrong with you? That's Sookie!" he grabbed his brother's chin and turned it towards me, "Not a fucking rag doll, not a fucking ATM machine; your best - no, your only fucking friend, Sookie!"

Alex struggled against his brother, punching, kicking, screaming to no avail. Then, to my horror, he tilted his head back all the way then thrust it forward so quickly and with such force into his brother's face that Eric didn't have time to dodge the blow. Blood sprayed everywhere as Eric's nose bled freely. He cursed but still, he refused to release Alex from his steely grip.

Shaking Alex by the shoulders, Eric whispered fiercely, "Brother, swear to God I love you, but how do I protect you from yourself when you're fighting me every fucking step of the way?"

Enraged and overcome by something so deeply disturbed that I couldn't even fathom what it was, he made a guttural inhuman sound deep in his throat and growled, "I don't fucking need your protection. You run around thinking you can save everyone but we both know the truth."

Then, his face changed and the most disturbing expression I'd ever seen on anyone, something akin to complete and utter evil, appeared on his face. He leaned in, and, centimeters away from Eric's face, he smiled. But it wasn't his usual boyish grin. No, this one was ugly and I knew, from the expression on his face to the disturbing smile on his lips, that whatever he was about to say would cause irreparable damage to his relationship with his brother.

Before I even realized what I was doing, I moved and found myself suddenly next to them. My hand that I lifted in hopes of covering Alex's mouth, froze in midair when the words left his lips.

"You couldn't save Freyda when she needed you most. She probably thought you were going to rescue her the whole time she was drowning." He chuckled, and it was a cruel, ugly sound. "I wonder, brother, if her last thoughts were that you'd save her in time or if she finally saw you for the fraud that you are and died regretting ever trusting in you?" His hands reached up and easily pushed his brother's hands off him. "You're a fucking failure. You couldn't save Freyda then, and you sure as fuck can't save me now."

Eric, standing shock still, didn't even blink when Alex shoved him off.

Alex cast a sideways glance at me and I saw a flicker of an emotion, shame, before he ducked and tagged my discarded purse from the floor. He rummaged through it and, finding what he was looking for, he shoved it into the pocket of his filthy jeans and took off. It wasn't until later that I'd realize he'd stolen my ATM, debit, and credit cards.

"Eric?" I whispered, cautiously.

He was still frozen in the spot.

I swallowed and placed a hand on his arm. "Sweetie?"

Nothing, not even a blink.

I glanced at the door, knowing I'd still be able to make it on time to dinner if I left right away, and walked over to close it. Picking up my purse and shoving the contents back inside, I reached for Eric's hand and began leading him towards his living room. Mind on something far, far away from the present, he followed like a mindless puppet and sat down on the charcoal grey sectional when I tugged gently on his hand.

I shot a quick text to Preston, telling him I was sorry but I couldn't make it, then draped my coat across a chair and strode over to the wet bar facing Eric's wrap around balcony's doors. Recalling from the few times we drank together that he liked his Scotch neat, I poured two fingers of the amber hued liquor into a tumbler and brought it over to him.

Grabbing his limp hands, I wrapped them around the glass and ordered, "Drink."

His eyes flitted to me before landing on the drink in his hands. Without a word, he lifted the tumbler and swallowed everything in one gulp.

He made a move to stand, but I pushed him back down and said, "I got it."

Deciding I could use a drink, or four, as well, I grabbed a bottle of Patrón for myself, switched the bottle of Glenlivet 21 for a Glenfiddich 15 (because 21's were meant to be savoured) for Eric, a shot glass and plopped down unceremoniously next to him.

"I'll match you shot for shot. Loser buys dinner." I announced.

Eric looked at me and, for the first time since I met him last March, it was without heat. He shook his head and said, "Go. It's Valentine's Day, your fiancé must be waiting somewhere for you."

I shrugged. "Eh. Fuck him."

He glanced at me. "Fuck him?"

I nodded once. "He's an uptight prick who hates my friends and thinks Brooklyn is the ghettos. Fuck him."

Eric shook his head. "Don't mean that. Go have dinner with your guy, I'm good."

"I'm staying and drinking whether you're joining me or not." Then I uncorked the bottle of tequila and poured myself a shot. Lifting the glass to my lips, I said, "He sleeps on the inside," then threw my head back and swallowed.

He eyed me curiously, said, "Don't know what that means, but I'll drink to it." then poured and swallowed a shot of Scotch.

I poured another glassful, and sneered, "He thinks eating from food vendors are low class," then threw it back.

"The fuck?! Vendies are New York." Eric said with utter contempt before draining his glass.

"He calls his mom and dad, 'mother' and 'father' even though they're one of those unhealthily enmeshed families!" I said, and took another shot.

Eric looked confused by that one, but he tossed his shot back anyway like the trooper that he was.

"He calls me Susannah!" I yelled, throwing my hands in the air. Then, deciding that was a particularly offensive one, I slammed back two shots and prepared a third.

"Thought your name was Sookie?" Eric asked with a bemused expression on his face.

"It is," I growled, then threw back the third shot.

A smile played on his lips. Huh, who'd have thought my asshole fiancé's shitty habits would elicit a smile on Manhattan's hottest bachelor?

That reminded me, "Don't you have a supermodel to wine and dine?"

"Nope," he replied.

I tilted my head to the side, "An actress?"

"Unh uh,"

Huh. But those were his usual fare.

"Ooh, you upgraded to a tv anchor? Those need journalist degrees right?" My eyes lit in excitement.

Eric shook his head.

Then it hit me, and I wrinkled my nose in distaste. "A reality tv star?"

That got a genuine smile out of him for some reason. "Nej,"

I scratched my head and furrowed my brows, oblivious to the grin that encompassed his face.

"Before you ask if I'm dating a porn star-" I opened my mouth to argue but he shook his head, "don't deny it; you were running out of options and would've gotten to that sooner or later. I don't do Valentine's."

I chewed my lip thoughtfully then blurted, "you don't do, as in fuck, your Valentines?"

He took another shot. "Do as in don't believe in, don't celebrate, don't take women out on February 14th."

My eyes widened in shock and horror. "Why the hell not? You celebrate all the other aspects of Cupid's mythology."

"Such as?"

"Desire, attraction, erotic love." I replied without missing a beat.

"I don't lead women on. To invite a woman out on Valentine's Day would falsely imply that I want something from her other than a good fuck."

My lips pursed. I knew that's how he and Alex were but jeezus, to hear it spelled out like that was soo fucking offensive. And on behalf of the sisterhood, I was righteously pissed the fuck off. So I told him so.

"You're a pig," I declared, eyes narrowed.

He shrugged. "Never pretended to be otherwise."

"Women should know how big of a pig you are,"

"They do, I don't hide it."

"Someone needs to warn them," I continued, not bothering to listen to him.

His brow lifted, "Warn them?"

"Maybe an ad in the paper or on a billboard." I tapped my bottom lip with my finger and nodded, "a fifty story billboard in Times Square of Eric Northman with the words, Fucks em, leaves em across the chest in blood red paint. I'll take up a collection, I'm sure it wouldn't be long before everyone you've fucked donates a dollar - I'll get the money in no time."

He chuckled, "Haven't fucked three hundred thousand women,"

I deflated. "Three hundred grand for an ad? That's insane. How'd you know, anyway?"

"Looked into it for my bars."

I nodded, he had three now and was planning the fourth.

Ire forgotten, I asked, "How's business?"

He shrugged, "Good,"

I tucked a stray hair behind my ear. Eric looked at my hand with a funny expression on his face.

Of course I nudged him with my shoulder, and asked, "What?"

He shook his head, "Nothing,"

I nudged him harder, this time bumping him with my head, and repeated, "What?"

He looked at my hand, then looked at me. "Ring isn't you."

I lifted my hand and stared at my sapphire and diamond engagement ring. "It's pretty..." I looked back at him.

"But it isn't you. The two British princesses the original was given to? Yeah. You?" He looked at me again and shook his head, "No."

"Then what's me?" I asked, curious.

"Equal parts cute, sexy, funny, and ball breaking. Feminine yet edgy. Loud but quiet. A foul mouth who curses and throws punches like a dude but who's also got the kindest, purest heart I've ever known. What you aren't, is a woman proposed to with another woman's ring. You aren't even a woman who should be proposed to with a fucking stock ring."

I was touched and completely speechless.

Eric tipped my chin up and looked into my eyes, "You're a woman who inspires a new ring to be created just for you, and you alone."

He looked at my lips hungrily.

I licked my lips and whispered, "No wonder you get laid as often as you do. You're good."

His eyes refocused on mine. Then he blinked and sat back with a sexy grin. "I know."

I smiled and thought I was good too. I got his mind off Freyda, whoever she was, and got him back in Mack mode. I had a feeling he was such a man whore precisely because of what happened to her, but that was a problem too big for me to tackle. It also wasn't any of my business.

Then, my stomach let loose the loudest growl. Cheeks flaming, I looked at Eric sheepishly and shrugged. "I was saving my appetite all day for dinner."

He shook his head with obvious amusement then stood and held his hand out for me to take. "Come on, let's get you fed."

My eyes lit up at the mention of food. "What are we ordering?" I asked, excitedly.

"Taking you out for a proper meal." He paused and gave me a scorching hot once over that left me feeling as if he now knew me intimately, "You, in that dress? Definitely not a woman whose male company orders her takeout."

I gave him a crooked smile, "Yeah, yeah, yeah. I bet you tell all the girls that," then took his proffered hand and went to get me fed.

A/N: * regarding Hadley:

In no way am I condemning abortions. I understand that everyone is different and well, shit happens. Whether it's for medical reasons, personal choice, sexual assault, whatever - I know that unless I've walked a mile in another woman's shoes, I have no right to judge her on such a life altering decision nor do I have the right to tell her what to do with her body.

That said; while I absolutely believe it's a woman's right to decide whether or not to terminate her pregnancy, I also believe selling the dreams of a child to someone and then deliberately taking it away from them without warning is vicious and cruel. Yes, I'm talking about Alex's situation where he was manipulated into taking back Hadley for the sake of his unborn child only to lose everything, but I'm also talking about the loss of something you thought was within your grasp only to have it abruptly taken away from you.

I suffered a miscarriage three years prior to the birth of my son. Even though it was early on in the pregnancy (first trimester), the love I'd already developed for it, the what could have/might have beens, the scenarios I'd envisioned of its future, the potential- it still haunts me to this day.

And I'd like to believe that such a loss would be as devastating for a good, decent man as well.

I'm also talking about the loss that potential parents (via adoption) go through each and every time they're told they're a match only to find out the birth mom changed her mind (which she's well within her right to do). From what I've read on the parenting forum I'm subscribed to, it's fucking brutal. There are also the adoptive parents who get their kids taken away after they're already living together. That possibility is what causes some (few but still present, according to what I've read) adoptive parents to fib on their applications and not allow contact after papers are final. It's a great big mess and the whole process is rife with heartache and tears.

In short, I'm not shitting on Hadley's decision to discontinue her pregnancy. I'm shitting on her for being a cunt. She could've kept the pregnancy but moved to North Korea and I'd still be hating on her.

That said, I hope you enjoyed this chapter! It was difficult to write - capturing those rough emotions is definitely not my forte but I'm learning. I'm really enjoying this E&S, more so than the two in my other fic :x The next chapter for NED hasn't even been written yet but I got some good ideas flowing thanks to my beta so it shouldn't take too long to churn out another chapter.

Anyway, enough jibber jabber. Thanks for reading, reviewing and favoring! Your reviews shape the story and encourage me (and other ff writers) to keep writing. It's like crack!

Sook's outfit and ring (and rings Eric referred to) are in profile!