He held onto me until I managed to come back to my senses, until I gained my own feet again.
I wasn’t sure if it was embarrassment or arousal that had my cheeks flaming, but I kept my head ducked to save myself from him witnessing it.
I made my way down the hall into the bathroom, wetting a tissue and cooling my cheeks and neck.
I was still flushed when I made my way out, but I decided I could blame the margaritas if someone said anything about it.
Luckily for me, Andy was pretty wasted herself, as evidenced by her sudden willingness to grab the karaoke mic and do an entirely tone-deaf rendition of “All I Want for Christmas Is You”that a sober Andy would be endlessly humiliated about if videos ended up posted anywhere.
I didn’t see Venezio as I did a tour around the snack table, forcing myself to eat some chips to soak up a bit of the booze.
But then went ahead and accepted another margarita when Andy brought it to me. Then maybe let her talk me into singing “Santa, Can You Hear Me?”
I didn’t realize until we were dragging out the last line that Venezio hadn’t, as I thought, left after the kiss.
Oh, no.
He was standing back from the crowd, a bemused smile tugging at his lips as he watched us.
“We should put out a Christmas album!” Andy declared, half hanging on me. That was a bad idea because I was hardly any more stable than she was. The whole room was starting to shift back and forth.
“Sure to go platinum,” Sammy said, wrapping an arm around Andy. “I think we should be heading out.”
“But we’re having so much fun!” Andy insisted.
“Yes, but Meatball is probably missing us.”
“Oh, Meatball,” Andy said, her eyes going round and sad. “We’re coming, Meatball!” she called, making Sammy snort.
Andy stumbled forward with Sammy, knocking lightly into me. But with my equilibrium soaked in tequila, it was enough to send me stumbling.
“I got you,” Venezio said as his arm went around me, hauling me back onto my feet.
“My hero,” I said, giving him a bleary-eyed smile.
“Yeah, that’s me,” he said with a drawl, “hero of the fucking month.”
“Any chance you could help me get her home?” Sammy asked.
“I can walk!” I insisted, even as I leaned more heavily on Venezio.
“Yeah, I can take her home.”
I angled my head up at him, giving him a soft smile, then said words I was sure I would regret in the sober light of morning.
“Yeah, you can bring me home.”
CHAPTER TEN
Venezio
Fun fact: Stephanie was the kind of drinker who was absolutely fine if she kept moving, but the second she sat down, the liquor hit her like a truck.
While Sammy tried to get Andy to stop showing the random family of tourists the thousands of pictures she had of their French Bulldog on the subway, Steph was sitting next to me, arms thrown out as the world seemed to spin around her.
The train lurched to life, making Stephanie let out a pathetic whimper.
“Let’s try this,” I suggested, reaching down for her legs and pulling them over mine so she was sitting sideways on the seat.
