Page 50 of Saved By the CEO

“I mean, are you upset because you were scared something would happen to me? Or are you upset because of Andrew?”

His eyes drop to the table.

A strange disappointment settles in my chest. Last night, I could barely stand. I told him I might die if I didn’t leave. But somehow, that doesn’t seem to be the part he’s stuck on.

“Right,” I say, standing.

He reaches out and catches my arm. “Wait. Please.” His face softens immediately. “Of course I’m worried about you. I’m sorry.”

I look down at his hand. After a second, he lets go.

“I think we both need some time to process this,” I say.

His shoulders tense. “What does that mean?”

“It means I’m leaving for New York in a few days.” I force a small smile. “And it means I’ll talk to you after the trip.”

When I come homefrom work that day, Annie is holding a drink.

It’s bubbly, freakishly blue, and has a pink umbrella sticking out of it.

“We’re going out,” she states, shoving it toward me.

I take a sip from the striped straw and grimace. It’s sickly sweet, but I can also feel something burning at the back of my throat. Like sugary paint thinner.

“Oh my god, what is that?” I say, trying to give it back. “It’s vile.”

She refuses to take it.

“It’s my late grandma’s recipe,” she says, completely serious. “She brought it with her on the Mayflower. I hope you’re ashamed of yourself.”

“Your grandma is four hundred years old?”

“I said late grandma, didn’t I?” She reaches for her own glass and takes a stoic sip. One of her eyes twitches. “And yes, she lived long. She took a brisk walk every morning and always ate her vegetables.”

A few hours later, I’m sweating in a too-tight dress Annie told me made my boobs look “magical,” swaying my hips on a cramped dance floor. All thoughts have basically been wiped from my mind. The only things that exist are the strobing lights overhead, the sticky floor under my shoes, and the rhythmic music vibrating in the marrow of my bones.

“Let’s get shots,” Annie yells over the music.

I nod a very normal amount.

That issucha good idea.

She grabs my hand, and we zigzag through a sea of bodies until we reach the bar. Annie slaps a hand down on the counter and says something to the bartender that I don’t hear. A minute later, a shot glass appears in front of me.

“Cheers!” Annie says, throwing her head back.

I do the same. The liquid burns all the way down my throat, and I give a full-body shiver as I place the glass back on the bar.

She turns to me and points a wobbly finger in the general direction of my face. “You should break up with Josh.”

The words land right in the soft, guilty place I’ve been trying very hard to drown in liquor and bad music.

“Is that why you wanted t—to go out?” I ask, in a clear and articulate voice.

She shrugs. “I just thought you needed to loosen up for this conversh—” She frowns. “Conversation.”

I pull my head back, affronted. “Why?”