Page 53 of Fire Away


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“Are you pregnant?”

I choke on the bite of cheese and cracker in my mouth and place my hand around the base of my throat. From her spot next to me, Emma outstretches her hand and slaps me on the back a little too hard. I stumble forward on my high heels and grimace in her direction.

“Jesus, calm down, it’s just a question,” she says while I right myself and take a sip of water.

“No, I’m not pregnant,” I hiss. “Don’t ask people that.” The glass of water in front of me is covered in condensation from the heat despite the sun still being an hour from setting. I wipe it with a napkin and take another drink.

If I was still a glutton for self-sabotage, I’d join most everyone else here tonight who is indulging in something stronger.

Directly behind the row of businesses on the street where the firm’s office is located, is an open grassy area. It’s a well-groomed park with a lush public garden, some large shade trees, and a stone fountain in the middle. Once a year, the law offices ofPowell and Grant transform the space into a party for a customer appreciation event like the one tonight.

“It’s important that we nurture the relationships that we have with our clients,”Mariana always says.

The decorated cocktail tables, hanging twinkle lights, and smells of BBQ are all lovely and inviting. The social interaction aspect though? Not something I’ve been looking forward to. I don’t exactly thrive in environments like this, or at least I haven’t in the past. But I’m intent on working through it the best I can without any big mess-ups.

I wish that Warren would hurry up and get here. He mentioned he had to drop something off for his dad at his job, so he’s not technically late. But I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t excited to see him after not crossing paths all week.

When we first agreed to pretend we were dating, his main job was to help me win over the people in the town, especially my bosses. But in a short time, my expectation of him has morphed into something more personal and I started wanting him around because of the way that he makes me feel. I’m more comfortable when he’s around. He’s kind to me and I don’t find myself having to worry about what I might say or do when I know that he’s there to bail me out—figurativelyandliterally.

“I was just wondering,” Emma whispers back to me with some snark in her tone. “You’re the only one not drinking champagne.”

“This is a casual evening work event, not a New Year’s Eve party,” I defend myself while trying to hide my annoyance. She eyes me with skepticism like she doesn’t believe my reasoning. “Stop looking at me like that, I amnotknocked up. That’d be impossible.”

“Ohhh,” she draws out the word and tries to hide a smile. “I see. So you and Warren aren’t sleeping together.”

I’d rather not discuss my sex life with Warren’s nosy ex-girlfriend. I’d rather not picture letting Warren have his way with me either, but it’s impossible to stop the visual now that she brought it up. I’ve already done enough of that this week and I’m running out of reasons to push him away.

“We’re—” I shake my head, “It’s none of your business, Emma.”

And why do you even care?

I realize how rude I sounded even without the last part I wanted to add, and instantly wish I could take the sentence back.

At the table next to us, Mr. Grant approaches a group of clients with a smile and engages in conversation. It’s a reminder that part of this job is being good with people, even if you don’t like them.

“I mean, I just keep those things private is all.” I tack on a closed-mouth smile for effect. “We should mingle,” I suggest, hoping she takes the hint and either goes away or changes the subject.

“Of course,” she leans toward me and places her hand over mine. “But if you ever need someone to talk to about your relationship issues, I’m here for support. I happen to know a thing or two about Warren if you know what I mean.”

Yes, I think I know what you mean.

And I’d also like to cunt punt you into the next dimension right now.

Where does she get off thinking?—

My thoughts get cut off when I see my brother perusing the open bar. Everyone is allowed a plus one, so I suspected that Emma might invite him. Even if I expected his attendance though, I still recoil. He’s more of an asshole when he’s drinking, and he loves to torment me at any given opportunity. If anyone is going to ruin this event, it might not be me after all. It’ll be him.

I continue ignoring Emma while I watch Spencer walk away from the bar and straight up to Mrs. Powell. I lean to the side, peeking around the floral centerpiece in the middle of the table. His face lights up in a way that tells me he is about to say something off-handed or sarcastic, and I dig my fingers into the palm of my hand.

Suddenly, my rule of no drinking tonight is no longer in place, and I snatch the bottle that Emma brought to the table.

“What the—” Emma snarls when my elbow bumps her in the process of reaching for an empty cup, filling it with a generous pour, and downing it in two swigs. I’d like to slam the cup on the table and storm out of here like a coward, but I can’t. This event has barely even started and I need to be here.

As much as I would rather avoid it, I need to intervene before Spencer’s conversation with my boss turns into a Savannah Chase roast session.

“I’ll talk to you later,” I say to Emma. She lifts a finger from the stem of her champagne flute in less than enthusiastic acknowledgment and I head straight through the crowd of people to break up whatever my brother is up to.

“Here she is,” Mrs. Powell smiles and steps to the side to make room for me once I reach them. “You didn’t mention that your brother would be in attendance today.”