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“How do you like this red?” she asked.
Breathe.“It’s fine.”
“Is it too dry?”
Dry?
Sip.
I finally looked at her as she hovered over me, both bottles in her hands, her brows raised high. “Saara, I honestly didn’t even know it was red.”
“Babe ...” Her voice was soft, gentle. So was the sound when she set the bottles on the table and the feel of her sitting next to me, and the arm that wrapped around my shoulders. “We’re going to get through this. I promise.”
If I shook my head, which was what I wanted to do, the tears would fall. If I stayed still, like I was doing now, I could keep them at bay, halfway between my lids and tear ducts—where they’d been frozen since she’d handed me my first glass of wine.
“I don’t know, Saara ...”
“Hey ... look at me.”
I hadn’t realized I wasn’t.
I turned my face, feeling a drip round my eyelid, meeting an expression that caused even more tears to fall.
Fuck.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
She was hurting, hurting for me, and that killed me.
Saara and I shared happiness and pain.
I just didn’t want there to be pain.
I didn’t want today to happen.
Breathe.
Sip.
Repeat.
“Listen to me,” she started. “The forensic dude is going to prove your innocence. The second they get their hands on your computers, it’s going to be more than obvious that you didn’t transfer anything to FaceDicks.”
Normally, that would have made me laugh.
But I couldn’t even imagine that sound coming through my lips.
“Easton is trying to put a rush on it, but it could take weeks,” I said. “In the meantime, I need to figure out how that email was sent, which I can do, once I get my head on straight and sober up a little. But still, even if I figure that part out, I have to sit here, unemployed like a total shit. Embarrassed. Disgusted. Pissed off. Confused. Cranky. And impatient as fuck until they prove I didn’t send the data. Ugh.”
“There’s no need to feel embarrassed. You’ve done nothing wrong.” She reached toward the table, grabbed something, and handed it to me. “Disgusted, pissed off, and all the rest, I can totally get on board with.”
Though I wasn’t hungry, I didn’t even look to see what it was before I took a bite.
I chewed without tasting.
I didn’t know if it was a cookie or cake.
And I didn’t care.
