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“Oh, my god. You’re in a designer dress. Get it off that floor.”
I stare at the ceiling, not even caring. Normally, I do care about my clothing, even the items I don’t like to wear. But right now, I couldn’t care less. Fuck the dress.
“He was just so…” I pause, opening my eyes to see Emma my best friend staring down at me, her face a mixture of puzzled and entertained. “So devilishly handsome. And he kissed me, it’s still lingering on my lips—his stupid kiss.”
Only it wasn’t stupid, in fact, it was far from stupid. It was everything and more.
“What’s his first name?” Emma asks. I stare at her blankly. Is she not taking any of this in? “Name, Lottie? Tell me his name.”
“Whiskey.” Her face drops, and she sits down on the floor crossing her legs right next to me. “Emma, why do you look like that?”
She pushes the paper she was holding behind her back, then looks up to me with saddened eyes. “Tell me more.”
“What’s that?” I ask, sitting up, reaching for the papers behind her back. She pushes them farther back while shaking her head.
“Nothing. Tell me more about him.”
“You’re acting weird. Just show me.”
“But you seem so happy yet pissed off all at the same time. I’ve never seen you this way about a man.” I can hear the gush in her voice.
“No man has made me this angry.” I reach behind her, but she pushes the papers farther away again. “Hey, let me have that.”
She shakes her head. “No.”
“Emma, let me see.” Her phone dings, and she glances in that direction. So, I quickly reach over and take the papers from behind her back. Before she can pull them away, I’m up and walking with them to the kitchen.
“What’s…” Whiskey’s face is in the paper. Next to him stands a very beautiful brunette. “It says it’s his wife,” I read.
“Yeah, I think you just kissed a married man.”
“I did not kiss him, he kissed me!” I scream. I glance at the article and then look at his hand. “He doesn’t wear a ring,” I tell her.
“So, neither does your father,” she points out.
“Shut up.” I throw the paper and cover my eyes with my hands. “How could this happen to me.”
“It was only a kiss, calm down.” She waves me off. I scream into my hands. I cannot be kissing or doing anything with a married man. It goes against everything I stand for.
“Emma.”
“Hmmm.”
“I think I slept with a married man,” I tell her.
“Sorry, what?” Emma’s eyes go wide. “You had sex in the bathroom, not only is that unhygienic…”
“No Emma,” I cut her off. “I slept with him a year ago, at that party.” Pulling my hands away, I see her looking down at me.
“Why?”
“I don’t know, it just happened.” I shrug. “Am I a homewrecker?” I question her. I can’t be a homewrecker. Oh gosh, my father would kill me if he found out I not only called off my engagement, but then I slept with his friend. His very married friend.
“Calm down. I’m sure…”
I sit up when she goes quiet.
“What?”
