Ours After All (All Ours, #2)

Chapter 18

I have the best friends in the world.

Seriously, I don't know why God decided to bless me with not one, but four angels of my own, but grateful wouldn't be a big enough word to describe the way I feel about having them in my life.

People often confuse our friendship for a love/hate one, but I wouldn't really call it that. Sure, we might not show our love for each other through much affection, but we do it in so many different ways. Our love language varies from quality time to acts of service. None of us are good with words or touching of any sort, and we're all too stubborn to accept gifts so that's out of the question too.

I guess we love each other enough to not have to show it. We just get it. Growing up with each other has practically taught us to read each other like a freaking catalog- sometimes I even think they know what I need and want better than I do myself.

Not tonight, though. I don't know if coming here tonight was the best idea.

The smell and humidity that hit me the second I walked in had already sent out a surge of regret through my stomach, making me nauseous. This place always does.

But my friends had enough of me sulking around like a depressed little kitten and wanted to...I don't even know what they wanted. I think maybe get my mind off the fact that my life is crumbling apart right in front of my eyes?

Losing my dream job right in front of my eyes by watching amazing chefs I've admired for years come in and out of my place of work to interview for the one thing I've been working towards for what feels like my whole life?

Finding out that the man I thought I'd marry someday has been sleeping with my own cousin sneakily for God knows how long- which drove me to drink almost an entire bottle of tequila and wine, and drunkenly make out with my best friends of over a decade?

So yeah, between everything, I wouldn't exactly say I'm in my prime. But I'm hanging in there as well as I can. 

At least I thought I was doing pretty well...until four girls showed up at my doorstep with duffle bags full of clothes and heels. Before I could even utter so much as a greeting, they'd barged in and led me to my bedroom, pulling everything they brought out of the bags on their way there and dropping them onto my bed.

Finally, two hours later, we're in a crowded club, surrounded by sweaty, drunk bodies. I had a pretty good idea of why they were dressing me up- although they kept saying we were just going out to dinner- but I'm still a little stunned. When I woke up this morning, clubbing was the last thing I thought I'd be doing by the end of the night.

''You're not drinking,'' Ivana notes, eyeing my full glass of watermelon martini- which is ironic because drinking has practically been all I have been doing since the break-up a month ago. But after the night...I knew I'd gone way too far and promised myself I'd keep alcohol at a distance.

''I didn't like this.'' I lie. I haven't taken a single sip but I'm sure it's delicious.

''Little liar.'' She huffs. ''Drink up. We're gonna dance.''

I barely keep off the urge to cringe at the idea. I can't even imagine myself dancing in this state of mind. I would be way too sober and aware of every little move I make and convince myself I look ridiculous and am just embarrassing myself to the point where I'd probably run out of here crying. I'm already not feeling like myself with this tight, strapless cocktail dress and stripper heels on, and that's bad enough for now.

Ivana catches on to my hesitation and sighs, taking a seat on a barstool next to mine. ''One of those nights?''

''One of those months.'' I counter.