I stare at the counter, unsure what to say.
Sue sighs, pushes off the counter, and walks to one of the higher cupboards. “Come on,” she says, voice softer now. “If you are going to unravel, you might as well do it properly.”
It takes me a moment to realize what she means, and when she sets down a bottle between us, my stomach twists.
“I don’t—” I start.
She’s already grabbing glasses. “You do tonight.”
It takes a lot of convincing, more hesitation than I’d like to admit, but eventually, somehow, I cave and sit down on the table opposite her.
She’s halfway through peeling the foil when she hesitates, her fingers hovering. “I am a very good drinker, you know.”
“Oh, me too,” I say quickly, nodding. A blatant lie, of course. The most I’ve ever had is a few sips at a family birthday or New Years. But Sue doesn’t need to know that. Shereallydoesn’t need to know that.
“Really?” Sue’s eyes sparkle, definitely fully aware of my lie as she pops the cork. The sound echoes so loud I almost forget Kai is currently in the house and might be able to hear it, because we both freeze like guilty teenagers, glancing around as if Kai might materialize from the shadows.
When nothing happens and we both silently reassure ourselves that Kai in fact is asleep, Sue grabs two glasses from a nearby shelf, pours generously, and slides one across to me. I stare at the fizzing liquid.
“To being excellent drinkers,” she says, raising her glass.
“To being excellent drinkers,” I echo, clinking my glass against hers.
Ten minutes later, the bottle’s contents have noticeably diminished and we’re on our second pour. Or maybe our third. Time has become a bit blurry.
“You’re slowing down,” Sue says, tilting her glass in my direction. She’s got a gleam in her eye that I’ve never seen before, and I don’t know whether I should be concerned or excited.
“I’m pacing myself,” I retort, though the truth is my head is already swimming in the depths of the champagne. “You know, savouring the experience.”
Sue snorts. “Savouring? This is not a museum, Adeline. Drink!”
“Fine!” I tip my glass back and immediately regret it. The bubbles hit the back of my throat a bit too suddenly, I gag. “Oh god, is it supposed to feel like your nose is on fire?”
“Yes,” Sue says solemnly. “That means it is working.”
We’re both giggling now, the kind of uncontrollable laughter that makes my stomach ache and silently complain. Sue tries to refill her glass but misjudges and ends up pouring champagne all over the table.
“Oops,” she says, staring at the puddle. “I am… how do you say…” She waves her hand in a circle, searching.
“Clumsy?” I offer, grinning.
“No,” she says, shaking her head. “Not clumsy. Ah… an idiot. I forget words in English when I am drunk.”
“You’re not an idiot,” I say, waving her off. “You’re just French.”
She narrows her eyes at me, though her lips are twitching again. “And you are very English.”
“I’m still winning, by the way,” I say since clearly this is becoming a drinking competition.
“Winning what?” Sue gestures at me with her glass, nearly sloshing champagne onto the floor. “You can barely sit upright.”
“Neither can you!” I shoot back. “You just drowned the table.”
She gasps, clutching her chest. “How dare you.”
“How dare I for what? I’m not wrong.” I laugh so hard I nearly spill my own drink. Why? I’m not entirely sure.
Just when I’m about to say something else, probably something stupid once again, the butler walks past.
