“Yeah. Love you too.”
Ending the call, I shove my phone deep into my purse and square my shoulders. Then I push through the door into the hum of music, low lights, and the kind of bar noise that makes your thoughts scatter. Dana’s already waving me over, with two of the other women from the office crowded around a high-top table.
“There she is!” Dana grins. “We already ordered a round. Hope you’re ready.”
She hands me a pink shot, and I don’t even bother asking what it is.
“Cheers!” She clinks her glass against mine, the others following suit.
“Cheers,” I mutter, lifting my shot like I’m toasting to my own execution.
The liquor burns going down, and I already want another. I flag down the bartender, and as I ask for a refill, Dana arches a brow, amused.
“Okay, girlfriend, let’s go!”
Thank God tomorrow’s Saturday. I can sleep off the poor choices and pretend, for a few blissful hours, that my life isn’t in flames.
The next shot dulls everything. The rage, the dread, the way Aleksei makes me feel like I’m flying only to rip the ground out from under me. By the third, my limbs start to loosen and I feel a strange buzz under my skin.
“Damn, girl,” Dana laughs. “What’s gotten into you tonight?”
“Nothing,” I say too quickly, waving her off. “Just felt like cutting loose.”
We move to the dance floor, and I let them pull me into the center, the bass thrumming through my chest like a second heartbeat. The lights blur, bodies swaying in a tangle of limbs and laughter. For a moment, I let myself get lost in it, not thinking about my future husband at all.
Until I feel hands at my waist, and I stiffen, half expecting a tall, broody Russian with a five o’clock shadow and sexy hand tats. But alas, all I find is a cheap replacement.
“Hey,” a man says, grinning down at me. “You wanna dance?”
“No.” I shake my head and force a polite smile. “I’m getting another drink.”
I weave through the crowd, ignoring the way he trails after me like static cling. Back at the bar, I slide onto a stool and take a breath.
He pulls up beside me. I open my mouth to order, but he beats me to it.
“It’s on me.”
Every part of me knows I should say no. But my head is still buzzing and, well, maybe I just want one last man buying me a drink before the new one kills them all.
“Sure. Why not? Thanks. A dirty martini, please.”
He nods at the bartender, and as he orders, my phone vibrates in my bag. I fish it out and see her name.
Mom
Tesoro, can we talk? Are you okay? What happened with Aleksei?
She’s been calling all day, but I haven’t had the energy to talk to her.
What’s there to say? I’m hurt she’d even want this for me. It’s one thing for me to do it for them, but it’s another when your own parents think you should.
I shove the phone back into my bag and turn to face the stranger again. He’s decent-looking. Dark eyes, sharp jaw. Almost handsome.
Just not Aleksei handsome.
Don’t. Don’t even go there. You definitely need more alcohol if you’re comparing random bar guys to Russian criminals.
“Here you go.” He hands me the glass.
