Total pages in book: 134
Estimated words: 134746 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 674(@200wpm)___ 539(@250wpm)___ 449(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 134746 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 674(@200wpm)___ 539(@250wpm)___ 449(@300wpm)
Elle lets out a good-natured laugh, completely unfazed. “I’ve never been called an ‘enema’ before, though I’ve called a few guys ‘douches.’”
“Well, this one’s a huge dooshnozzle.” Marissa jabs a wobbly finger at me. “You . . . you shoulda just settled out of court.”
No.
This is not a conversation we should be having without legal counsel present. I pinch the bridge of my nose.
“Miss Sullivan.” I sigh. “You’re in no state for this conversation. Is there anyone here with you?”
Marissa smirks at me sloppily. Her bright-red lipstick is smeared, staining the edge of her glass in messy smudges. “Ashkin’ if ’m single in front of yer fiancée? Shameless.”
“Don’t be crass,” I bite off. “You are in no condition to drive home, and you’re clearly at your limit.” I pull my phone from the breast pocket of my shirt. “I’ll call you an Uber.”
Elle leans across the table toward me, stretching one hand out lightly to touch my wrist. The warmth of her fingertips soaks into me, soothing my irritation. “August, we could take her. It’s okay. We don’t have to stay for dinner.”
Marissa turns her nose up. “Pfft. Like I want you to know where I live.” She squints at me. “I don’t wanna go.”
“You’re going,” I snarl.
I summon a car, set a dummy address on Alki Beach, then signal across the restaurant to the bartender, mouthing to put her last tab on my card. As I stand, I reach down to cover Elle’s hand with my own in a gesture that feels too natural. Her knuckles press lightly against my palm.
“It’s all right,” I say, turning a sterner look on Marissa. “Give the driver your real address after I’m out of earshot. Is that negotiable?”
She wrinkles her nose, thrusts her lower lip out, and tosses the rest of her highball back in a loud gulp before she slams the glass down on the table.
Right before pointedly turning her back and snubbing me.
All right, then.
“Marissa.” I try to cut the irritation out of my voice. “Please. You’ve had too much to drink. I’m offering you a truce for tonight. Purely for your safety.”
“Oh, fuck you and your white-knighting. You’re not my dad!” she tosses over her shoulder.
I exchange a helpless look with a concerned Elle.
“No,” I agree. “Definitely not.”
I wait.
This stalemate can only go on for so long, especially when Miss Sullivan looks like she’s struggling to hold her balance as the booze hits harder.
Finally, she relents with one more sour look over her shoulder.
“Whatever. Fine. Can’t be an adult and just go have a drink anymore, huh?”
“I’d say you’ve had enough.” I reach down to touch Elle’s hand again. “Elle, I’m sorry for this shit. I’ll be right back.”
She turns her hand and catches mine, lacing our fingers together briefly in a squeeze that makes my heart jolt.
“Don’t apologize. I’ll wait so the waiter knows we didn’t leave. Go deal with her.”
I squeeze her hand back in genuine gratitude and pull away, gesturing to Marissa and sweeping my hand toward the elevator. “After you.”
If only so I can catch her if she trips on those heels.
But she manages to wobble her way toward the elevator.
It’s a tense ride down, both of us dead silent and looking anywhere but at each other.
I briefly worry I’m about to be vomited on when Marissa watches the view for a few frozen seconds, then turns away with a loud cough and covers her mouth.
Whiskey and high-speed vertigo don’t mix.
But she holds it down.
I don’t comment.
I also don’t miss how, once we step out of the elevator and make our way outside in bristling quiet, she seems grateful for the bite of cool night air slapping us both in the face. She takes a deep breath, tilting her head back into the wind.
We reach the curb, stopping several feet apart from each other.
I check the app on my phone before extending my hand.
“Your keys.”
“No!” Marissa scowls, clutching the little purse clamped against her elbow closer.
“Marissa,” I repeat sternly. “I’ll give them to the Uber driver. You can come back for your car tomorrow.”
“Fine,” she spits, digging through her purse before thrusting a jingling key ring at me.
I pluck them from her hand and pocket them for now.
“I’ll wait with you until they arrive. Looks like they’re three minutes away.”
“Whatever,” she huffs, folding her bare arms around her shoulders with a little shiver. I’d offer my jacket if I hadn’t left it upstairs. After a sullen mumble, Marissa asks, “Why are you being so nice to me?” A suspicious look darts my way. She’s speaking more clearly, at least; the cold air seems to be helping to clear her head, even if she’s still not in her right mind. “I’m not gonna drop the suit just ’cause you called me a ride.”
“That’s not what this is about.”