“What a coincidence,” I muse, leaning against the back of the other sofa. “Neither could I.”
Mila lets a faintly amused sound slip from her, then, as if realizing she’s supposed to be mad at me, she turns her nose up. “You smell like a bar.”
“An expensive one, I hope.”
“They all smell cheap regardless.”
“Harsh, but observant,” I hum, feeling a bit lighter than I had earlier. From where I stand, I toe my shoes off, letting go of a chuckle at the way I almost lose my balance before catching myself on the sofa.
The tension between us is still there, as if waiting for the right moment to strike, but the booze takes away some of its bite. I felt miserable earlier, and even more so after the drinks, butnow, it leaves me, and if anything, I’m more tired than angry. Maybe a little delirious, even.
After a moment of consideration, Mila murmurs cautiously, “How much have you had to drink?”
“Enough to feel pretty good,” I tell her, lips pulling without me telling them to.
Her brows lift, and she hesitates, caught between curiosity, disbelief, and amusement. “Pretty good? Does that mean you’re a happy drunk?”
“Happier than most usually…but I’m buzzed, not drunk,” I correct her, pointing lazily in her direction. “There’s a very distinct difference.”
“Right,” she snorts to herself. “Buzzed Ivan seems a lot more relaxed.”
“Don’t get used to it.”
Despite herself, Mila allows the faintest smile to cross her face, and something about that makes me feel victorious in a way.
Yet, at the same time, my stomach sinks a little, and my mind drifts back to right after the baby shower. How I had been less than decent to her.
Sighing, I scrub a hand down my face. “I shouldn’t have said what I did.”
The warmth from her features fades slightly, but she doesn’t dodge it. “Said what?”
“The things before,” I gesture vaguely, leaning my forearms against the back of the couch to lean more into it. “About watching you. You weren’t supposed to know…but I’m also not good at explaining things gently.”
“That’s one way to put it.”
With some delay in my response, I lift my head more and meet her eyes. “It wasn’t about control, even if that’s how it seems.”
Mila glances away for a moment, and her shoulders shift with another scoff. “That’s definitely how it seems.”
“I know,” I concede, absently fiddling with my thumbs. “It really was about business, but then I got curious. I went from watching the doomed, sheltered sister to someone completely different on stage. Most girls in your position would’ve given in to their brothers’ wishes, but you didn’t.”
She watches me closely now, and regardless of the suspicion still in her eyes, something soft and new exists there too.
“I just wanted to understand, so I paid attention,” I mumble, taking more effort to draw in deep, grounding breaths than usual.
“It was still wrong.”
“Yeah, I know,” I mumble. “I’m working on that.”
I feel Mila’s eyes on me a moment longer, then I catch her amused hum. “You look like hell. You should probably sleep it off.”
“And yet my room is so far.”
“Quit complaining and start moving,” she says, surprising me with her more lighthearted tone. “Do you want some water?”
“Yes, please,” I mumble, starting to feel the pressure of exhaustion now as I will myself to stand up straighter.
“I’ll meet you there, then.”
