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“Does your dad live far away?”
“I’d say so,” I answered slowly, trying to give a casual shrug. A knot formed in my throat, and I attempted to put on a good face for Britt, but my smile was already quivering at the edges.
“What state does he live in?”
“Oh, he’s… not out of state. He lives in New York. In Brooklyn. But you know, it’s more than a two hour drive away.”
“Pshhh, that’s nothing when it comes to visiting your own daughter! Especially when she’s at like, a huge turning point in her life,” Britt exclaimed. “But maybe that’s just me? I’m just like, so close to my dad. I can’t even imagine him not wanting to visit me if I – ”
“Hey.” Emmett’s first word of the night came to cut her off brusquely. “Why don’t you stop talking about that? Recommend me another drink or something,” he muttered, sounding annoyed.
“Ooh! You bet!” Britt perked up immediately, grabbing the cocktail menu. But before she went to reading it, she looked up at me with a pout on her glossy lips. “I’m really sorry about your dad, Aly. It sucks that he just refuses to see you.”
Heat coursed through my veins and I stared at Britt as she looked down at the menu.
I wanted to ask myself what the fuck had just happened, but then I remembered that Britt was seated at the raw bar the third time my dad canceled his reservation.
In anticipation of him, I’d had the entire staff set up the nice corner table with a three-tiered pastry stand, a pitcher of fresh OJ and a bottle of Veuve Cliquot on ice. When I finally finished running around the kitchen and the dining room to make sure everything was place, I went to catch a breather in the office and text my dad for his ETA.
It was at that point that I saw he’d sent a five-word text thirty minutes ago.
Tired. Gonna take a raincheck.
No “sorry” included.
I’d kept it together in the office, and had every intention of doing so in the dining room. But the second I told Evie and felt her arms around me, I started crying.
Something Britt unfortunately witnessed.
“What the hell was that?” Drew whispered in my ear. Even in his drunken state, he could tell I was seething.
“Nothing.” I turned away to dab the wetness in my eye with my knuckle. I hated that I’d actually let the comment get to me but I also couldn’t fathom how Britt could be so malicious to someone she barely knew. “It was just… a low blow to piss me off,” I muttered between my chattering teeth.
Drew rubbed his eyes, frowning across the table then at me.
“Well, why don’t we piss her off right back?”
I bit down hard to stop my teeth from chattering. “What do you suggest?”
“Something that requires pissing off Emmett too,” Drew replied. “That okay?”
With a bitter shrug, I said, “Do what you gotta do.”
And within seconds, I gasped because Drew’s lips were on my neck.
My eyes shot wide open, promptly met with the fire of Emmett’s gaze. The hollow of his cheeks flexed as he clenched his jaw tight, and his chest visibly tensed as Drew kissed up my neck for another second or two before pulling away.
“Drew.” The stern warning in Emmett’s voice sent a shudder to my thighs. “Let me talk to you for a second,” he muttered, nodding out the booth.
Drew flashed a grin of drunken content. He was the epitome of disrespect as he said, “Nah, bro, I’m good,” before returning his attention to me. He brought his mouth close to my ear before murmuring his giddy question. “He pissed?”
“I think so,” I breathed, stunned.
“How ‘bout her?”
“I – I don’t know.”
“All good. I got this,” Drew said. Facing forward, he took a drink of my margarita before turning back with a grin. “I get any salt on my lips?” he asked.
