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“What?”
“Are you okay?” she asked, her voice laced with concern.
I nodded emphatically, swallowing the lump in my throat. “Yeah, why?”
I forced the dent between my brows to smooth and pushed the tension from my face.
“You’ve been a little preoccupied,” she observed, her gaze warming the side of my face. “More than usual, I mean.”
“I guess I’m just a little overwhelmed with being back here after so long,” I lied, my grip on the steering wheel tightening.
“Right,” Reid hummed. She shifted a little in her seat, turning to face me. “Was that why you insisted on getting to the bottom of three wine bottles last night?”
My face flushed with heat, a burning mixture of shame and guilt coloring my cheeks.
“Don’t remind me,” I said, forcing a lifeless chuckle. “My head is still killing me.”
“As it should,” Reid said snarkily. “You didn’t eat breakfast today either.”
“What’s your point?”
My fingers had begun to tremble, and the memories of Donnie’s hands on my face turned my gut inside out.
“My point, Mia,” she said carefully, “is that you love breakfast.”
“You were just talking about how much wine I drank and now you’re surprised that I didn’t want to eat breakfast?”
“Sue me for finding it a little weird that the person who once cooked aseven egg omeletcouldn’t even finish her coffee this morning.”
My temples throbbed as I chuckled, with a little more mirth this time around. I turned down a slightly quieter street.
“It made me want to throw up,” I countered.
“You should have,” Reid said sagely.
“Excuse me?”
“If your body is ill and wants to throw up, you should listen to it and throw up,” she said. “It obviously hates what you put inside it and wants to get rid of it. Forcing yourself to grin and bear it will only make you feel worse.”
“Speaking from experience, I presume?” I teased. I just wanted to think about something other than Donnie.
“You bet your ass.” She laughed, and the sound of her giggles eased the twisting pain in my chest a little. “Anytime I was hungover and needed to throw up, I did exactly that. And I was ready to drink again that night.”
“Dear God, Reid,” I breathed. “You were a party animal.”
“I am competitive,” she corrected. “You’ve met Hayden and Alex; we’ve been friends forever, and if I ever lose my liver, you can blame them.”
I giggled. Listening to Reid tell stories about her friends helped a little, even if the possibility of all of it being stripped away hung over my head.
What would I do if Reid found out? Would I even be able to stay in America? Reid was a wonderful person, but would she stay married to me just to let me stay? Would I be able to support my family anymore? Or would I be forced to come running back to Donnie with my tail between my legs.
My throat closed up at the thought, and my vision blurred for a split second.
“Mia-!”
CRASH!
Too late, I was too late.
