I was drunk.Pretty drunk.I wasn’t swaying, so to speak, but I was starting to question whether gravity was real.
Probably fake news.
I pour myself another one as Emily plonks down beside me.“Hey, Zander.”She says in her English accent.
“Emily, Emily, Emily.”I wrap an arm around her.“You should’ve married me.”
“Then I wouldn’t have my beautiful baby boy.Who I need to get home to now.Anyway, you hate marriage,” she states, unfazed.
“I do.Get married.Get divorced.It’s made me a rich man.”I take a sip.
Her shoulders slump.“That’s not true.Some people stay married.Only fifty percent don’t.”
“Ah,” I say, holding up my whisky.“But ask me how many of those people speak to a lawyer about leaving their spouse but don’t because of the cost.”
I toss back the rest and grin.
“I don’t want to know.”
I lean into her ear and whisper loudly.“All of them.”
“That’s not true and get your fucking arm off my wife.”Sebastian kicks my foot.
I do, because having a black eye when facing my opponent would see me at a disadvantage.Courtney and Adam will finally sit opposite one another on Monday.
“Just for the record, though, if I didn’t hate marriage, you’d have married me, right?”I grin at Emily and wink at Sebastian.
“Give me your fucking phone.”He rips it out of my hand, and next minute I know I’m being loaded into my car, and Terrance is taking me home.
Rude.
“Go down Seventh, Terrance.”
“Why, sir?”
“I feel like cruising around,” I lie.
Then I put my ear to my phone and let it ring.
“Hello.”
I smile.
I was going to hang up, even though I know she has my number programmed.
But I don’t.
“Open your door,” I rasp.
Then I hang up.
