54

The server returned with Ford’s drink and a basket of bread that I immediately reached for.

“This is delicious.” I moaned, chewing the sourdough. “What club are we going to?”

“Why?” Ford asked. “Is someone eager to hook up?”

Mid-bite, I replied, “Fuck no.”

“No?” He took a piece of bread and handed the basket to Dominick. “Why? Suddenly feeling … taken?”

“Ahhh.” I tossed my napkin at him. “I see where this is going.”

“Do you?”

“Fuck, don’t you start with me too.” I got up from my chair, holding the wooden frame, and said, “I’m going to the head. When I return, no more Jo talk. Understood?”

I flipped them off when they laughed and stumbled toward the back of the restaurant in search of the restroom. Once I got inside, I felt my phone vibrate in my pocket. I took it out, the screen showing a notification from Instagram that Jo had posted a new photo.

At some point, I’d set those up.

And I never stopped them.

Why the fuck did I do that to myself?

The alcohol flowing through my body caused