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Dammit. “I just... I’m out of groceries.”
“Ah,” Arthur said. “Well, don’t worry about it. I’ll send a delivery out to you.”
“Thank you.” Her gaze strayed to the wine rack in a nook under the kitchen counter, where only one bottle remained.
She shouldn’t say it.
She didn’t need it.
“And I need more wine.”
“Veronica.” His tone was stern, but under it, concern bled through. She could almost see him shaking his head, his thinning salt-and-pepper hair catching the light. “You know that’s not the solution. Your mom?—”
“Please, Dad. I don’t need a lecture. I just need some wine. I have a glass or two with dinner. It’s not a big deal. I’m not like mom.”
He exhaled, and she heard his disappointment loud and clear.
“Okay,” he relented after a long moment of silence. “But if I’m going to get you wine, we need to talk about Connelly.”
Shit. She’d walked right into that one. “There’s nothing more to say about him.”
“God, you’re stubborn.”
“I get it from you.”
“Not one of my better qualities.” He paused for a beat. “Forgive him, Vee. He didn’t mean any harm.”
“Absolutely not.” Her jaw clenched, as it always did at the mention of Connelly Davis. “Forget the wine. I don’t want to talk about him.”
“Veronica, please?—”
“Goodbye, Dad. Thanks for the groceries.” She hung up on him and tossed the phone aside. It immediately rang again. She pressed a hand to her forehead, trying to ward off the headache that threatened to engulf her.
She needed to clear her mind.
To forget about Connelly.
Her mom.
Her dad’s disappointment.
Forget about everything…
She scrambled to her feet and lunged for the wine rack, grabbing the last bottle and uncorking it with a satisfying pop. She poured herself a generous glass, savoring the rich aroma of blackberries and dark chocolate that filled her senses. The cool liquid burned down her throat, easing the insistent ache in her chest. She took another long drink, relishing in the numbing sensation, and wandered over to the sliding door, peering out over her unused deck to the ocean and endless sky beyond. A storm was brewing over the mountain to the south, darkening the sky.
At one time, she had soared through those temperamental skies, pushing the limits of her aircraft. She touched the cool glass of the door and could almost feel the thrill of defying gravity again.
The familiar ache for freedom swelled in her chest.
But that was a lifetime ago.
She wasn’t that woman anymore, and now staring out at the unobtainable world just made her angry. She closed the blinds, finished her glass, and went back to the bottle on the counter to pour another.
And another.
And another.
And suddenly, the bottle was almost gone, and the world grew soft and fuzzy around the edges.
