Page 6 of Downfall

When I turn around, Allie is standing there, arms crossed over her chest, hip popped, lips pulled back in a scowl.

“I was⁠—”

“Nope.” She somehow switches places with me before I even know what’s happening, so now she’s positioned in front of the door. “Whatever it is, save it. You lured us here under false pretenses. Now you are going to stay and endure the festivities right along with us.”

My face falls as I inhale a frustrated breath.

I was so close.

“You knew, didn’t you?”

Allie flips a wavy brown lock over her shoulder. “Of course I knew. My staff was being extra skittish this morning before I closed up. Not to mention Emory’s nervous lip-biting throughout the entire ceremony.” She places a gentle hand on my arm, leading me further into the restaurant. “And lip gloss? Really? We all know your idea of getting gussied up is using the clear watermelon flavor of lip balm instead of the mint. It’s still clear even if the cap is pink.”

Dammit. How does she know me so well?

She turns back for a split second as if she just remembered something. “Hey, Sky. I wasn’t saying that to be rude. You’re naturally, infuriatingly gorgeous. You know that, right?”

Blood rushes to my cheeks, heating them before I turn away. It’s what I always do when someone gives me a compliment. I’ve never known how to take them.

Ignoring my blush, Allie pushes me through a door, and I realize she’s led me to the kitchen. She bypasses a server who’s carrying out a tray of mini crab cakes and grabs my uninjured wrist, leading me past her staff busily chopping and arranging appetizers on platters. Her sous chef, Julian, looks up from where he’s delicately placing microgreens on a plate of what looks like tuna tartare. “Where’s the fire, chef?” he asks as we whiz by, and Allie just throws up her middle finger. I hear his throaty chuckle as Allie opens the giant walk-in fridge and pulls me in. She slams the door, pushes aside a container of carrots on a bottom shelf, and pulls a small bottle of brown liquid from a cardboard box. It’s not until she turns it towards me that I realize it’s Fireball.

“You tell anyone I drink this shit, and I’ll tell Ash you’re feeling overwhelmed at work,” she says, unscrewing the red metallic top before taking a swig.

I nod my head, and she hands me the bottle. The cinnamon-flavored liquor burns as it slides down my throat, but I welcome it. Of course, she knows exactly how to threaten me. The last thing I need is Ashton thinking I’m overwhelmed. He’ll swoop in and baby me more than he already does.

Allie Montgomery is nothing if not ruthless. It’s honestly what I love about her. She dishes out tough love, and sometimes that’s exactly what I need. There have only ever been two other people in my life who have done the same. One’s dead, and the other might as well be.

“You know, I used to be jealous of you.” Allie’s soft words cut through the silence, and I almost choke on the sip I just took.

“You? Jealous of me?” I squeak, handing her back the bottle.

“The way he was with you. You guys had this comfort between you. It seemed so effortless.”

She passes the bottle back to me, and I place it down on the cold floor. If I have another drink, I might be crawling out of here. She’s talking about Ashton. I sensed there was some questioning on her part in those early days, but it wasn’t my place to talk about it. I had hoped he would set the record straight sooner rather than later, but they were both so damned stubborn in the beginning. “We’ve known each other since we were kids, but it was never like that. I mean, I thought maybe for a split second it might be, but…”

“You belonged to someone else,” she finishes for me.

“Yeah.”

It’s just one word, but it’s also an admission I haven’t made out loud since that night.

Say you’re mine.

I’m yours. I’ll always be yours.

Shaking the words from my head, I bring the bottle back to my lips, taking a long pull. I guess one more sip won’t hurt.

Allie and I trade the bottle back and forth a few more times until she starts hiccuping and my eyes grow glassy.

“You know, Julian is single,” she rushes out before another hiccup. “If you’re into the whole tattooed, bad-boy thing,” she adds, looking me up and down. “And I have a sneaking suspicion you might be.”

This isn’t the first time she’s tried to set me up with him. “I’m sure he’s great, but I’m way too busy to date right now.”

“Oh, right. I forgot.”

“What?” I lightly push her shoulder. “I am.”

She looks at me, blue eyes wide behind her black-framed glasses. “Regret’s funny, isn’t it? Sometimes you can’t feel it until it’s too late, and other times…you feel it while it’s happening, but can’t seem to stop yourself from doing the one thing you know is going to hurt the person you care about.”