“You only get one liver.”
“My liver.” She picks up her glass. Takes a long sip. Makes a show of sighing with pleasure. “Perfect.”
My stomach sinks. Something is wrong. But what the fuck is it? “Talk to me, Leigh.”
“What about?”
“Why you’re frowning.”
“I don’t drink that much. You should mind your own business.”
“You’re my business.”
“You wouldn’t say that shit if you didn’t know my mom’s a drunk.”
“I do know.” I run my fingers along her jawline. “I fucking love that I know. I love when you let me in.”
Her brow softens. The frustration in her eyes fades to affection. “Ryan, I…”
“Best shit we got.” The bartender interrupts with my bourbon.
She presses her lips together. Swallows whatever she was about to say. Holds up her glass. “Now we can toast.”
“What to?”
“The end of this.”
I lift my glass. Clink it against hers. Drink.
It’s good bourbon, but it doesn’t go down easy. It burns my throat. Twists my stomach. Sends my thoughts to ugly places.
“You think Dean took Kristen home?” she asks.
“He told me he didn’t fuck her.”
“What?” She arches a brow. “No way.”
“Said he couldn’t get over how she stood by Penny.”
“Damn.” She takes a long sip. “He’s admitting he has feelings again. This is an alarming trend.”
“Probably good for him.”
She nods yeah. “She’s still looking at you.” Leighton motions to Penny, in the middle of the room, talking to her dad and—
Fuck. That’s my mom.
He catches us staring. Waves.
“Fuck.” I down the rest of my bourbon.
Leighton turns to me with a curious expression. “Huh?”
“That’s my mom.”
“Oh.” She stares at the conversation. “It is.”
Mom waves. She turn and makes her way toward us.