Blame it on the Champagne (Blame it on the Alcohol #1) - Fiona Cole Page 0,31

one went there unless they needed to. It was the perfect escape to get through the day.

“Thank you, Verana,” Debra said slowly, probably gathering her wits after I almost threw myself at her.

Before I could follow her out, I remembered Nicholas’s demeaning order.

“I just have to talk to Angie, and I’ll head down.”

I may have to pass my ideas off to someone else, but everyone in that meeting knew who they came from, and I’d keep showing up with more. Nicholas couldn’t block me out completely. Eventually, someone would request my presence on a team for what I brought to the table. Consistency always won.

By the time I walked into my house, I could have collapsed. The work hadn’t been hard, but the mental battle I’d waged on myself took its toll.

I dropped my bag and trudged to the kitchen, popping open a bottle of wine. I didn’t bother to wait for a glass. I lifted it to my lips and let the rich berry flavor explode in my mouth. I took a solid three swallows before I finally grabbed a glass and took both to my living room, where I set up my computer for my much-needed FaceTime.

They picked up immediately. Nova had the mountains behind her through the open doors of her van. Meanwhile, Raelynn sat in an oversized chair, the London Eye shining in the dark through her windows.

They wasted no time with greetings and small talk, instead pushing me to spill what had me calling this emergency meeting. The more I explained, the wider Nova’s eyes got, and the bigger Raelynn’s smile grew until she was almost bouncing in her seat and laughing.

“Oh. My. Gawd,” she practically squealed.

“You did what?” Nova screeched.

“Don’t worry, Nova. I can hook you up at the next party we’re all at,” Raelynn joked. Nova’s face scrunched up in disgust, and she shuddered.

“You guys,” I whined, flopping back on the couch. “What the hell am I supposed to do? I know I still want to work there and show up every day, but hooooow am I supposed to pull it off?”

“Keep going,” Raelynn said with a shrug like it was so easy.

I shot up from the couch, grabbing the bottle of wine to top off my glass, looking like a crazy woman with wide-eyed panic. “I can’t keep going. Are you kidding me? Hello? Camden?”

“What about Camden?” Rae scoffed.

“You’re not even dating yet,” Nova added softly.

“He was actually…kind of sweet this weekend. My mom said that she hated my dad when they first met, but they ended up falling madly in love. What if this weekend was the beginning of Camden showing me a more affectionate side? And I ruined it? What if I ruined our future?”

“Oooookay. Deep breath,” Raelynn encouraged. “You didn’t ruin anything. Especially because you don’t owe Camden any explanation about anything.”

“He’s going to be my husband, and I want this to work. I always knew this was my future and this past weekend showed me a glimpse that my parents were right, and this could work. He’s probably a good man under all his bravado. He’s probably just set in his ways and needs to adjust to sharing his life with someone.”

Nova’s lips pursed, and her eyes looked anywhere but at the screen.

“What?” I asked. She sucked at hiding her thoughts.

“Nothing.”

“Oh, it’s definitely something,” Raelynn said. “Probably the same something I’m thinking.”

“What?” I asked in exasperation.

“He’s…” Nova hesitated, looking around like the right words were written on her van walls. “I’ve obviously never met him, but he doesn’t seem super great.”

I sat up straighter, hating that my friend didn’t like him. I got it, but I wanted this all to work out even if I had to force it. I opened my mouth to object when Rae cut in.

“You know we support you no matter what. And maybe he will shift to someone better. But for now, you’re not obligated to anyone. If you want to fuck your boss all over the office, all day, every day. You can without having to answer to anyone but you.”

I drained my glass in an attempt to coat my dry mouth. Sleeping with Nicholas didn’t sound horrible when I remembered our night on the patio. However, remembering our meeting from earlier sounded horrible. My lips twisted at the memory of how rudely he spoke to me.

“It wouldn’t matter anyway. He accused me of knowing it was him I was sleeping with to get a position on a new big project he’s