“I’m numb.” I swig another long gulp of wine and hold up my glass for a refill. “And I plan to stay that way at least for the rest of tonight.”
Liz pours the remainder of the bottle into my glass. “I fully support that plan.”
“Are you going to make me talk about my feelings tomorrow?”
“I learned a long time ago that I can’t make you do anything, my friend.”
“Are you going to call my mom if I don’t talk about my feelings tomorrow?”
“Most definitely.”
I sigh and pull the blanket up over my head. “Rude.”
“Where’s your phone?”
“Why?” I don’t come out of my hiding spot, so my voice is muffled by the thick cotton.
“Section 752 of the best friend code requires me to be sure no drunk texting happens tonight.”
“My clutch is on the hall table. I already turned off my phone.” I poke my head out of my blanket and point to the table, which is only a few feet away and clearly visible.
Grayson might be a lying dick, but I don’t think he’s not going to notice I ditched him and the party. I’m sure he’ll be calling and trying to find me soon, if he hasn’t already.
Liz gets up and walks the short distance to the entryway, pulling my phone from my purse and tucking it into her pocket. She slides out her own phone and studies the screen for a second. “Grayson just texted me to see if I know where you are. What do you want me to say?”
I groan and bury my head in my hands. “Tell him I’m home safe, but I don’t want to talk to him. And he shouldn’t even think about coming over here, or I will punch him in the nuts.”
“Going to leave off that last part, but yes to the rest of it.” She taps at her phone before returning it to her pocket. “More wine?”
“Is that an actual question?”
A cork pops in the kitchen, and I burrow myself back into the comfort of the blanket.
Chapter Twenty-One
Waking up the morning after the premiere is, well, not fun. The sunshine is bright, and the headache is fierce. Somewhere around the end of bottle of wine number two the tears started, and I don’t remember them stopping. Which probably explains the dampness on my pillow and the snot crusted around my nose.
Super cute.
Liz is snoring next to me in bed when I throw off the covers and haul my ass up. I head straight for the kitchen, guzzling down two full glasses of water before even attempting to do anything else. A hot shower is up next. The steam helps my headache, but the time alone under the pulsing water doesn’t do much for my aching chest.
Grayson’s words keep echoing through my mind, and today, the numbness has abated and I feel every inch of the pain.
I trusted him.
I loved him.
And he was faking it the whole fucking time.
Liz is sitting at my dining room table when I finallyemerge from my makeshift steam room. She hands me a cup of coffee and a plate of toast like the best best friend she is.
I sink into a chair and gratefully sip from my mug.
“How are you feeling?” She pulls her knees up to her chest and studies me far too insightfully.
“Physically or mentally?”
“Both?”
