Page 122 of Spicy Ever After
“‘Ssso loud in here…”
I’m cracking up. “Hattie, sweetheart, what have you been drinking?”
“Nothing but water—” Hiccup.
Every muscle in my body locks. “Wait. What?” If she hasn’t been drinking, then she’s been roofied. “No alcohol?”
She blows a raspberry. “Did you know… that Jello can make you d-drunk?”
Oh, thank Christ.
“You, um, you had some Jello shots?” If she were sober, she’d be able to hear my smile.
“Yep. Three… Wait… no… four. Tasted like strawberries.”
“Four?” Jesus.
“No more than five… I think. Iss like… like the gummies all ov-over again.”
Now I’m laughing but shaking my head. “Honey, those are gonna plow you under.”
“Oh, I’m… I’m plowed.”
She is the cutest fucking thing. The best fucking thing. Five shots in and she’s rescuing me from my nightmares.
I want her in my arms right now.
“You okay?”
I know she’s in safe hands with her sister and the whole bridal party. But her limit’s gotta be different from theirs.
“Hmm… Just wish the floor would stop… rolling.”
“Where are you?”
I hear her lick her lips. And I know. I just know. She’s gonna be sick.
I throw off the covers and grab my jeans.
“The… The… Goose…” I hear her pull away from the phone. “Marg… Margaret… What bird is it?”
Bird?
Judging by the snatches of conversation I hear on the other side of the line, Hattie’s sister is just as confused as I am. Pinching the phone between my ear and shoulder, I drag on my jeans.
“What bird is this room?”
“The Grouse Room,” Margaret and I say at the same time. The club is downtown on Jefferson Street.
Hattie moans a little. “‘Sss about to be… The Gross Room.” She snorts a laugh that turns into another moan. “Think I’m gonna throw up…”
Scuffling sounds and concerned voices warble over the phone. I pluck my discarded shirt off the foot of the bed and step into my boots.
“Hello? Beck?” I’m pretty sure this is Margaret. “You there?”
“I’m here. And I can be there in fifteen minutes.”
“A-are you sure? Hattie just ran to the bathroom. She’s never been drunk—This is my fault.”
