Amelia shrieks as the countdown begins from sixty seconds. “Oh goodie. You guys met already. Don’t take offense, Tony. She gives that name to all the strangers she meets at the clubs.”
“Oh, now you call him Tony. How convenient,” I mutter.
Fifty seconds.
Tony keeps his questioning gaze on me as my face does a terrible job of coming to terms with this truth bomb. “You really didn’t know who I was?” he asks as softly as he can over the rowdy crowd.
“No idea.” I feel my eyes prickle with moisture.
Forty seconds.
“Oh, don’t feel bad about it, Tony. It’s not like any of us are gonna remember any of this tomorrow.”
Oh no. Amelia, please shut up.
“What do you mean?” he asks, eyes on me.Always on me.
“We’ve been drinking since breakfast. Going drink for drink. This one is probably gonna black out any minute now.” Amelia jerks her thumb in my direction.
Thirty seconds.
“What?” he growls.
“Oh, don’t be such a party pooper. This is our last hurrah in Miami. Let us live a little. Plus, my little Nikki over here is gonna terrorize all the men of Manhattan. A couple of us call herthe Maneater. ’Cause she’ll love ’em and leave ’em. Let her have her fun with whatever poor guy falls into her trap.”
Ouch.
Twenty seconds.
“Amelia, please shut up. You’re experiencing full word vomit, and I need you to reel it in.” I send a pleading look Tony’s way, and I can tell he doesn’t know what to think right now.
“Oh, I forgot to ask!” Amelia pipes up again. “Did you ever find a guy to have that New Year’s kiss with? Or have you given up that mission?” She giggles.
My stomach bottoms out as I see all traces of my soft, beautiful Tony turn to stone.
Ten.
“I’m not drunk.”
Nine.
“Pfft,okay. If you say so.” Amelia snickers.
Eight.
“Explain,” Tony grits out.
Seven.
“Am I missing something here?” Amelia looks between us.
Six.
“I can explain,” I start.
Five.
“Oh, I’m gonna be sick!” Amelia runs off to the bathroom.
