“I have two more shots for you,” the bartender said once they’d finished the second they’d ordered. “Courtesy of the gentlemen over there.”
Autumn followed his gaze to the bar, where two suited guys were leaning on the counter, smiling at her and Lydia. She shot a pleading look at the server. “Please tell them thank you, but we’re not interested.”
“Who said we’re not interested?” Lydia asked, her eyes sparkling. “They’re pretty cute.”
“Okay, I’m not interested.” She grimaced. “I got divorced today, remember?”
The bartender blinked as though a pair of headlights were trained at his eyes. Autumn tried not to laugh. “It’s okay, I initiated it.”
“In that case, congratulations.” He set the shots on their table. “I’ll pass the message back to the gentlemen. I’m sure they’ll understand.”
“You’re going to have to get back in the saddle sometime,” Lydia said when they finished the third shot.
“No way.” It came out more slurred than Autumn intended. “I’m not interested in guys. Maybe I’ll stay single. It’s safer that way.”
“You’re twenty-nine. You’ve got your whole life ahead of you. You don’t want to spend it alone. Not every guy is like Josh.”
The two suits walked over to the table they were sitting at, and gave them a dazzling smile. “Ladies,” one of them said, the ring on his wedding finger catching the light. “Can we join you?”
“Not every guy?” Autumn said to Lydia.
Lydia laughed then looked at the suit who’d asked to sit with them. “I’m so sorry, but my sister here is swearing off guys.”
The suit’s smile widened. “Let me give you my number, anyway. Call me if you change your mind.” He passed them both a business card, as though they were at the office rather than in a bar.
When they’d gone, Autumn turned to Lydia and raised her eyebrows. “I think I need another drink.”
Lydia grinned. “I thought you’d never ask. Come on, let’s find another bar and celebrate properly. It’s not every day you get divorced.”
She couldn’t see out of her left eye. And if she was being honest, the right one was blurry, too. Add that to the fact her mouth tastes as furry as a monkey’s behind, and it didn’t take a genius to realize she was hungover.
Ouch! Yep, there was the banging headache to remind her that she and tequila definitely didn’t mix. Why, oh why had she drunk that last shot?
And the five before that…
Today was supposed to be the first day of the rest of her life. She’d planned to spend the morning going through her closet a la Marie Kondo, throwing out anything that didn’t give her joy. And then working out what the hell would give her joy post-divorce.
Finally, her left eyelid unstuck and the light came flooding in. Slowly, she sat up and took in her surroundings. Her bedside table was strewn with papers, which on closer inspection looked like her divorce agreement. Her laptop was open, though at least she’d changed the stupid screensaver picture of her wedding day on a beach in the Bahamas to a less emotive image of the desert at night. She didn’t need a reminder of what she’d lost every time she opened it.
Leaning to grab the laptop made her stomach turn a double somersault, and she had to swallow down the nausea. This is why she didn’t drink. That and the fact that the last time she’d gotten drunk in Grad School she’d ended up texting her professor to tell him his wire-frame glasses were very sexy, and to see if he would be interested in a date.
Oh god. She hadn’t drunk texted anybody last night, had she? Please don’t say she messaged Josh. Her heart galloped in her chest as she rooted around for her cellphone, unable to locate it on the mattress or the table or anywhere else she would have put it.
Then she remembered she had to surrender it as part of the divorce settlement. Company property. She was husbandless, jobless, and phoneless. Maybe that was a blessing.
As if it could read her mind, the landline phone that she never used began to ring next to her, dancing on the table as though it couldn’t believe its luck. Autumn lifted it and gingerly placed it to her ear, pausing for a moment to remember her telephone etiquette.
“Hello?” Her voice sounded like her throat was full of gravel.
“Hey, tequila girl. How’s the hangover?” Lydia’s voice was way too cheery for Autumn’s liking.
“It’s brutal. I’m never drinking again.” She turned her head too quickly and winced at the sudden shot of pain.
“I kind of like you when you’re drunk,” Lydia continued, her voice full of humor. “And when you’re single, too. Remember the karaoke bar we went to? At least five more guys asked me for your phone number. I told them you didn’t have one, so I took theirs instead. Do you want me to email them over?”
“Stop teasing me. I’m dying.” Autumn leaned her head back onto the padded leather headboard, her eyes still firmly closed. It felt better that way. Maybe she’d go back to sleep. Hopefully when she woke up this would all turn out to be a bad dream.
“I’m not teasing. You sang a fabulous version of I Will Survive. Then you told everybody you were going to spend your divorce settlement on something stupid and frivolous, just like your marriage.” Lydia laughed. “Come on, you remember that, don’t you? I can probably find a video of it. Lots of people had their phones held up.”
The worst thing was, Autumn could remember it. Or at least she was beginning to. Hazy visions of that bar danced behind her eyelids. Fleeting ones of her grabbing the microphone and how everybody laughed when she told them she was a divorcee at the age of twenty-nine, and open to offers from Mr. Right-Now.
She was definitely never drinking again.
“Anyway, that’s not why I called,” Lydia said. “I was just returning the message you left me last night. I must have been asleep when you called.”
“I left you a message?” Autumn blinked. “When?”
“Lemme check…” Lydia paused. “Okay, it looks like it was at three in the morning. You sounded so excited, but I couldn’t quite make out what you were saying. It sounded like you bought something with your name on it, but I’ve no idea what.”
That pulling at the base of her stomach turned into full blown nausea as Autumn tapped her password into her laptop. Her screensaver was replaced by a web page with a photograph of a long pleasure pier stretched into a sparkling blue ocean, complete with a big restaurant halfway down, a large boat parked at the end. Autumn scanned down, her eyes swimming as she tried to take in the small black print describing the pier and the small town of Angel Sands where it stood, followed by an email address for interested parties to submit a bid.
With her breath caught in her throat, Autumn pulled up her sent emails. Of course, there was one sent at three that morning. And naturally, it was to the real estate company listed on the web page, offering the full asking price and telling them she was able to pay cash and close very fast.
She’d even given them her attorney’s contact details.
“Autumn?” Lydia said. “Are you okay?”