Blame it on the Vodka (Blame it on the Alcohol) - Page 39

“And now I’m in a bathroom, trying to get myself to be honest, but I feel like I’m on the edge of losing it.”

“So, be honest. Say it,” she ordered like it was nothing. “Say it out loud.”

My jaw clamped tight, and she met my stubbornness with her determined stare. She knew she was right, and dammit, I knew it, too.

“I—I’m jealous of Aubrey.”

“Why?” she asked, not holding any punches.

“Because…” I swallowed and bit my lip, not wanting to say the words but needing to. “Because she knows Austin in a way I never will.”

“And…”

“What do you mean, and?”

She stared harder, and if I had to guess, she was probably tapping her foot on the other side of the screen. She knew there was more. I knew there was more. It stood there in front of me, and I didn’t want to face it. Dropping my gaze, I studied the sink. Glitter caught my eyes, and I looked over to where the golden band sparkled on my ring finger—my wedding band.

A wedding band that could have been hers.

Closing my eyes, I started chipping away at the root of what really bothered me. “He almost married her.”

“And what if he had?” Vera asked.

I snapped my gaze back. “I would have come back from overseas to my best friend married—without me.”

“So?”

“What if she hated me? What if she made him choose between her and me, and I lost my friend? Because, of course, he’d choose her, she’d be his wife. She would be more important.”

My heart throbbed painfully, racing toward—or maybe away from—the truth.

“But you’re his wife now.”

“Not really.”

Vere did a very unladylike eye roll I knew she had to have learned from me. “No matter what your intentions are in the future, you did marry him. So, that does, in fact, make you his wife. The question is, how does it make you feel?”

“Trapped,” I answered without thinking.

“Thanks for that rote response,” she deadpanned. “Now, let’s get the real answer. When you spent time with him today, flirting and acting married, how did that make you feel?”

I ran through the moments we interacted and kept coming back to when he first accused me of being jealous. He’d cornered me, but that feeling lingered for the rest of the day.

“Cornered.”

“But not trapped?”

“No,” I answered, shocking myself.

“Why cornered?”

“Because I didn’t want to answer his stupid question,” I said without thinking.

“Why?”

“I didn’t want to admit I was jealous.”

“Why?” she repeated again as if prodding a tender spot, pushing and pushing until I broke.

And break I did.

“Because I freaking care about him.”

“Holy Halleluiah.” She raised her hands in the air. “The heavens have parted. It’s about fucking time. Nico,” she shouted past the screen. “You owe me a hundred bucks and a back massage. I told you guys she wouldn’t make it home before admitting it.”

“Dammit,” Nico muttered in the background.

“You had a bet?” I screeched.

“Yeah. Hang on. I need to message Nova. She thought you wouldn’t admit it until at least his grandparents’ house. Way too much faith in your stubbornness.”

“What the hell?” I wanted to say more—ask more questions—but my mind scrambled to keep up with its own thoughts, let alone the bet I had no clue about.

Vera finally focused her attention back on me, changing her victorious smile to one of concerned friend. “Listen, you can give us shit later. We need to focus on your feelings for Austin.”

“What? No. No.” Hearing it laid out so bluntly had me backing away from my phone.

“Why?”

“Because I don’t want to have feelings for him. I can’t. I don’t do relationships.”

“You could try,” she offered.

“I don’t want to because if I do, I know how it will go. We’ll fall apart, and then everything will change.”

“It’s already changed, Rae.” Her softly spoken truth hit me more like a two-by-four, and the panicked feeling that had me calling her in the first place only increased.

“You’re not helping, and I have to go.”

“Listen,” she snapped.

Her voice hit like a splash of cold water, calming me down enough to do exactly as she ordered.

“I don’t have an easy answer, no matter how much I wish I did.”

“I know,” I whined.

“The bottom line is that you have feelings for Austin, and it’s up to you to decide what you want to do with them. Don’t let fear of change keep you from doing something about it because things have already changed. The best you can do is guide it to the best outcome.”

And with those not so helpful final words, we got off the phone, leaving me to face everyone at the party as Austin’s wife—not feeling any better than before I had the bright idea to be honest with myself.

Thankfully, I didn’t get the opportunity to be alone with my thoughts—or Austin. We shared a limo with my parents and the Scotts’ to the party at a much larger mansion. As soon as we walked in, the crowd of partygoers, decked out in their best black and white, greeted us. They offered their congratulations and asked to see my ring, concerned about the small size, and then gushing over the fact that it was a family heirloom. When they were done ogling my ring, they moved on to ogle Austin.

Tags: Fiona Cole Erotic
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