California Girls. Susan Mallery

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СКАЧАТЬ style="font-size:15px;">       Chapter Four

      When Ali opened her eyes Saturday morning, her first concern was to question whether or not she had to throw up. Thanks to the wine and the tequila chaser, much of last night was a blur. Zennie had been sweet and supportive, but she’d never been more than a single glass of wine kind of girl, which meant the two empty bottles of wine were mostly Ali’s doing.

      She shifted on the sofa, assessing her situation. She felt awful—her head pounded, her stomach hurt and her heart was little more than a torn and damp tissue, but she didn’t think she was going to vomit.

      “Yay, me,” she whispered before pushing herself into a sitting position.

      She winced at the bright sunlight filling her living room. Her headache cranked up two levels. Why couldn’t she live somewhere that it rained all the time, like Seattle? Rain would suit her mood better.

      She leaned back against the sofa and tried to summon some small measure of energy. She needed to pee and she should probably brush her teeth. After that, a shower would be good. Once she’d done all the normal stuff, she was going to have to face where she was in her shattered life and deal with the detritus that was her broken engagement.

      Glen was gone. That much she remembered from the previous night. Zennie had been sympathetic and caring but at no time had she tried to convince Ali that it was going to work out. Sending Daniel to do Glen’s dirty work kind of said it all. Glen was past done with her. There was no going back, no turning this into a funny story to tell the grandkids.

      “Not my first breakup,” she reminded herself, speaking aloud, then winced at how loud she sounded. Or maybe that was just the hangover. No, not her first, but by far her worst, because she’d allowed herself to believe Glen really loved her.

      She wouldn’t think about that, she thought as she stood and waited for the room to stop spinning. Once again she assessed her need to throw up and found that, despite the thudding in her head, she wasn’t feeling that awful. Maybe the pizza, ice cream, Bundt cake combo had mitigated the wine.

      She took a couple of steps, only to trip over a half-open pizza box. Once she got her balance back, she looked around and saw there were dishes everywhere, along with a second pizza box and remnants of the cake. She vaguely recalled her sister wanting to clean up, but Ali had insisted she was going to party on, even after her sister left. Zennie had offered to stay, but Ali had been feeling drunk enough to think she would be just fine on her own.

      At least she’d survived the first night, she told herself, then nearly fell over when someone knocked on the front door.

      “Stop,” she said, hurrying over and opening the door. “Just stop making that—” She blinked against the blazing sunlight, then blinked again because she had to be seeing things.

      “What you doing here?”

      “Checking up on you,” Daniel said, stepping past her and into the apartment. “How was your night?”

      “What?” She stared at him, trying to figure out why he was so much more in focus than everything else in the room.

      He’d obviously showered. His clothes were different from the ones he’d worn the previous afternoon, but maybe not. He looked a lot fresher than she felt, but his beard was confusing. The three-day growth thing never changed, and how did that happen? And how was it so perfect all the time? Every hair exactly the right length. Did guys take a class on how to do that, or maybe use a special razor or clippers?

      She felt herself smiling. Yeah, it had to be clippers, like those dog clippers that measured how long you wanted the cut to be. Not that she could imagine Daniel using dog clippers, but still, the thought was amusing.

      “I might still have a little alcohol in my system,” she murmured more to herself than him.

      “I wouldn’t be surprised.” He handed her a large to-go cup. “I made this for you.”

      She took it but didn’t drink. “What is it?”

      “A smoothie. Coconut water, red ginseng, prickly pear and ginger. Do you need to throw up?”

      “I might now.” She wrinkled her nose. “I don’t even know what prickly pear is.”

      “Everything in there will help with your hangover. Drink it and go take a shower. When you’re done with that, we’ll see if you want to eat.” He held up a grocery bag. “I brought breakfast.”

      “You need to talk in shorter sentences,” she told him before taking a sip. The smoothie wasn’t half-bad. It mostly tasted of chocolate and maybe a little of coconut, which made sense because of the coconut water. Except coconut water didn’t really taste like—

      “What were we talking about?” she asked.

      He smiled at her. Now that got her attention. She wasn’t sure she’d seen Daniel smile before, at least not because of something she’d said or done. He was usually stern-faced and disapproving. As if she smelled bad, which she didn’t, except possibly this morning and hey, that wasn’t her fault.

      “Do you like it?” he asked.

      His smile? That seemed like a really personal question. Oh, wait. “The smoothie? It’s good.”

      “Drink it down. You’ll feel better.” He glanced around. “So you and your sister did okay last night?”

      “It was fine. I mean horrible because of Glen, but Zennie was very sweet. I cried and got drunk and called him names and she offered to take out his liver.”

      Daniel raised his eyebrows. “That’s very specific.”

      “Zennie’s an OR nurse. I’m not saying she’d do a great job, but it’s not like we’d want him alive at the end of the surgery so hey.” She drank more of her smoothie, only to remember Daniel was Glen’s brother.

      “You know I’m kidding about his liver, right?”

      “Yes. And even if you weren’t, under the circumstances, you get to be pissy.”

      “Damn straight. What a jerk. It’s not fair. I loved him. I was going to marry him. Why can’t he be more like Nigel? That’s my sister Finola’s husband. Nigel is wonderful. So handsome and successful. He’s a plastic surgeon, not some stupid engineer who designs sewers. I hate him. Glen not Nigel.”

      “I got that.” Daniel put his hands on her shoulders and turned her. “Shower, then breakfast. After that, we’ll come up with a plan for the day.”

      “Okeydokey.”

      She drank a little more of the smoothie, then walked into the bathroom. She flipped on the light, closed the door, then turned and saw herself in the mirror. And then she screamed.

      “Oh, my God!”

      “You okay?” Daniel asked from the other side of the door.

      “Mortified. Why didn’t you say something?”

      “About what?”

      She СКАЧАТЬ