“Well, what the fuck am I supposed to do about it?”I deflated,shaking my head.
She leaned forward, and her tiny fist hit the top of the desk, startling me. “Try! You try! Clearly, my son is determined to be unhappy, but you can put an end to this . . . this nonsense.”
I pushed myself back into the cool leather of my chair. “I tried. I fucking did. Now . . . nowI don’t know if I should.”
Uncrossing her legs, she stood up. “Ah. I see. You know?”
Nodding, I couldn’t look her in the eye.
“And that’s it?” I didn’t speak, didn’t move. I didn’t have an answer for her. “Can’t say I blame you.”
My chin jerked toward her. “What?”
She shrugged and gathered her purse. “It’s insanity to love these men, Sasha. I know that. But I also know what I saw between you and my son and hoped you’d be able to see past the life.”
“I love him. I just . . . I don’t . . . I’m sorry.”I tried tostand, but my legs wobbled.
Rounding the desk, Mrs. Moretti pulled me into a hug. When she leaned away, she gave me a soft smile. “Nothing to be sorry for, honey. I’m sorry for sticking my nose in where it doesn’t belong. You’ll find your happiness, your match,and so will Luca. I just thought—” Herhand cupped my cheek, her thumb brushing away a tear. “Ah, it doesn’t matter. Just be happy,Sasha.”
With that, she left me dumbfounded in my office with a necklace that was never meant to be mine.
* * *
At seven, Ashley bounced into my office. “You ready to go?”
Glancing up from the monitor, I frowned. “I’m in the middle of something.”
The joy left Ashley and in its place was the exasperated harpy I’d become accustomed to battling every Friday night. “Jesus Christ, Sasha! It’s Evie’s birthday, and you promised to come out with us.”
“Oh fuck, I forgot. Ug, is there any way that—”
“Nope! Get your ass up. Wegottaget you home and into something lessofficey.” Ashley shut my laptop and grabbed my purse.
She walked out the door without a backward glance. “Ashley! Damn it!”
One wardrobe change, two hours, and three margaritas later, I was in a much better mood.
“So, where are we heading?”Ashslurred over the last sips of her strawberry marg.
“I was thinking Red. What’dyathink?” Evie looked down the long table.
“Let’s do it! I haven’t been there since it reopened.” Jazz hollered as she swung her arm around her latest squeeze. A sweet thing from Alabama that gazed up at Jazz like she was the end all be all of life.
So,eleven scantily clad women and one modest librarian hit the streets, hoofing it the four blocks to the aptly lit Red nightclub. A line wrapped around the side of thebuilding—a strange sight in St. Louis.
Evie runway stomped toward the doorman, the rest of us following in her wake. Groans erupted from the line as the bouncer ushered our group inside. The sound only made us strut harder. If they’re going to hate, we might as well drown them in it.
It had been months since I’d been to a proper club, let alone been this tipsy in public. The telltale smell of booze and sweat wrapped around me,and my skin got clammy from the humidity caused by the dancing bodies.
Ashley bumped into me,smiling. “This isgonnabegreat!”
Shouldering our way to the bar, we lined up twelve tequila shots.
“To our fearless leader, Evie!” I shouted down to our group. Ever the ham, Evie stood up on her stool and led us in the salt, shot, lime ritual.
“To the dance floor!” Evie flew off the stool and into the chaos of bodies. Everyone followed but Jazz’s sweet Imani.
“You coming, Imani?”