chapter 7

“Most mornings.” I sip my whisky. “You?”

She sucks her bottom lip for a moment. “Most mornings.”

We both smile.

“We are really, really drunk,” she says.

“Yeah, I know.”

“I’m so going to regret this conversation in the morning.”

“It’s the most honest we’ve ever been,” I tell her. “I’m loving it.”

She leans forward and rests her forehead on my shoulder for a moment. “Don’t tell anyone.”

“Which bit? The self-administering bit, or about Rich Halcome?”

“All of it.” She sighs. “Especially the bit about Steve hitting me. Mack and Titus will get all riled up and then the Magnificent Three will go off to teach him a lesson, and I don’t want that.”

“Why not?”

“I dealt with it. Plate-glass window, remember? The fucker will have scars on his face for life. He won’t ever forget the day he gave me a fucking backhander.”

I kiss the top of her head. “That’s my girl.”

“I love you,” she says.

I sigh. “You are plastered, aren’t you?”

“I mean it.”

“I know.”

“Why aren’t you drunk?” she demands.

“I am.”

“Y