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She shuffled into the kitchen, and a flash of red caught my eye.
“Are you bleeding?” I demanded, storming toward her, my gaze on the red stains on her white socks.
“Bleeding?” she pouted, before following my gaze. “Oh, no, see – I dropped my wine glass.”
I looked around the corner leading into the kitchen and spotted the dangerous mess of shattered glass and red wine splashed across the pale stone tiles.
My eyes widened and I held my hand out to her. “Come here, please,” I said, my eyes glued to the shards of glass that were inches from her feet.
I held my hand out to her, and she stumbled forward. I took her hand and pulled her out of the kitchen.
“Sit down over here,” I said gently, helping her into one of the little sofas in the entrance hall.
I wasn’t an idiot; I knew she was two glasses past tipsy.
As carefully as I could, I peeled her wine-soaked socks off one at a time, doing my best to make sure there were no stray shards of glass caught in the fabric.
“Do you wanna talk about what happened today?” I asked quietly as I worked.
“What happened?” she asked, blinking in confusion.
I sighed. “You don’t get drunk,” I reminded her. I’d known her long enough to know that. “You enjoy a glass or two here and there, but this? Something happened. Do you want to talk about it?”
“It’s a boring story.” She chuckled sadly, and my heart ached.
“I’m here to listen, if you want,” I offered, standing up to fetch a roll of paper towels from the kitchen.
I dried the wine off her feet, the skin already beginning to get sticky.
“I just need to unwind,” she insisted, holding a trembling hand out.
I glanced from the proffered hand and back to her face in question, my confusion evident on my face.
“Wine.” She pouted impatiently. “Get it? I need to un-wine.”
She dissolved into a fit of slurred giggles, and as adorable as it was, anxiety clawed up my throat.
In all the years that we’d worked together, I’d never seen Mia so… out of control.
The Mia I knew always had everything in perfect control, her grasp a vice, never a hair out of place. She managed to plan out my entire year down to the hour, and she very likely knew more about my own business than I did at this point.
But this…
This Mia scared me.
Something was so very obviously wrong, and yet, as I had been when she’d almost been deported, I was helpless.
“Come on, you drunkard.” I sighed, trying to keep my voice light. I helped her to her feet and led her to the small living room, setting her down on the sofa. “Can you sit here for five minutes while I clean up in the kitchen?”
She nodded emphatically, and reached over between the sofa and the coffee table, producing a sealed wine bottle.
“I’ll be right he- hey!”
I snatched the bottle out of her hands and walked back to the kitchen, ignoring her protests.
Cleaning up took longer than I’d anticipated, but once I was satisfied that every bit of glass was gone, I got to my feet and checked on Mia.
Unable to stop myself, I chuckled at her. She lay flat on her back, her feet propped upon the back of the sofa, singing softly to herself.
