I stare at her in confusion but decide against asking right now.
“And this.” She hands me a face wipe the second I’ve pulled the knickers on. “Keep it together and own it. You fall apart when you get home and away from the waste of space who made the mistake of making you feel like shit.”
Finally, she hands me a pair of ballet shoes that are rolled up into a little ball.
“Who are you, Mary Poppins?” I ask through my smothered sobs.
“Nah, I’m just a girl with a few more years of experience with this shit than you. Best advice I can give you? Stay the hell away from any guy who makes you feel as wrecked as you do now.”
“It’s not that easy,” I whisper.
“I know. It never is.”
The lift dings and thankfully, no one greets us on the other side and the Uber is already waiting for us by the entrance.
Bri holds the door open for me and shocks me by jumping in with me.
“Oh, you don’t need to—”
“Let’s go, man. We haven’t got all day,” Bri snaps at the driver before popping the top of her prosecco and handing it over.
I eye it suspiciously before she damn near thrusts it into my hands.
“Now, tell me how small Alex’s cock really is and I’ll laugh right along with you.”
I blow out a pained breath.
“It wasn’t Alex.”
I watch as she thinks about who else lives on that floor, and her eyes widen in shock.
“No,” she breathes.
A sad smile pulls at one side of my lips before I tip the bottle up and swallow down more mouthfuls of the bubbles than I really should.
But that’s the least of my issues.
Dance with the devil and you’re always going to get burned.
I guess the only question is, just how bad is it going to hurt?