Chapter 21
The morning sun sliced through the curtains and seared straight through her eyelid and into Glenna’s skull.
She groaned, rolled onto her side, opened her eyes, and immediately regretted it as her stomach heaved in violent protest. Her eyes snapped shut, and she forced herself to breathe through her nose as she rode out the wave of nausea.
The room spun because, even lying down, everything tilted enough to feel like she was upside down on a rollercoaster.
Never. Drinking. Again.
Fragmented memories of last night invaded her mind, from the laughter with a group of women who lived the life she had hoped for herself to the sharp bite of tequila and vodka as they sipped on fruity, but extremely boozy, concoctions.
Every round they drank, the women’s stories had grown wilder.
Serena telling how she met Remi while attempting to bash a gorilla on the nose with a branch.
Marissa insisting that there were days she still wanted to punch her husband in the balls for being a dumbass.
The general consensus had been that men, and especially operators, were so pretty, because if they weren’t, there wasn’t a woman on the planet who’d put up with their bossy, often over-the-top paranoid protective tendencies.
Oh God. Oh no.
I made a fool out of myself in front of Tyrone.
Her eyes flew open as the memory slammed into her with the force of a freight train.
She bolted upright, then froze as a spike of pain lanced through her temples, making her vision blur.
The wastebasket beside the bed sat pristine and untouched.
Thankfully, there was zero evidence of a midnight disaster, and no telltale signs of a shameful purging.
But the crushing, suffocating weight of her own humiliation made her cheeks heat up to the point where even the tips of her ears were on fire.
I climbed all over him and begged him to stay.
God. I’m such an idiot.
She wasn’t some lovesick teenager but a grown woman who should know better. Yet she’d done it anyway.
TikTok Adlay, this is all your fault.
As soon as her eyes could open without squinting and her hands stopped shaking, she was going to write that inventor of cocktails that were way too yummy for anyone’s good a stern email or private message, insisting that her recipes needed to come with a warning.
‘Do not drink when you have an Operator with abs for days, a twinkle in his eye, and a heart of gold babysitting your kid while you tested every single recipe on Adlay’s page. ’
Did he stay last night?
She couldn’t remember. Everything was too freaking fuzzy in her mind. She glanced at the other side of the bed. The sheets were rumpled, and if she squinted hard enough, she could just about make out the indentation of a body still visible in the mattress.
He stayed.
A fresh wave of mortification crashed over her, and she pressed her palms to her cheeks as if she could physically push the flush away and force it to fade. The last thing she needed was Kelsey walking in on this. Her daughter didn’t need to see her mother like a disheveled, reckless mess.
Glenna swung her legs over the edge of the bed and grabbed the first clothes she could find.
If there was ever a day that called for comfy clothes, this was it.
She found an oversized T-shirt and a pair of leggings she’d left crumpled in the corner, and yanked them on with jerky movements, her fingers fumbling with the waistband before she stumbled into the bathroom.
The reflection that greeted her in the mirror was brutal.
Her hair was a wild, tangled mess, half of it escaping the loose braid she’d thrown it into yesterday.
But it was her eyes that made her stomach clench, because they were bloodshot and hollow, the eyes of someone who’d had one too many Starburst-tinis and was now paying the price in spades.
I’m never, ever drinking again.
She turned on the faucet and splashed water over her face again and again before she grabbed her toothbrush, squeezed a generous strip of toothpaste onto the bristles, before scrubbing at her teeth to get rid of the taste of death that had somehow crawled in there overnight.
By the time she emerged from the bathroom, she was on the way to just about feeling like she might survive this.
Thank God for small mercies.
She padded into the kitchen and was immediately met with the rich, bitter scent of freshly brewed coffee. A note was propped against the pot.
Took Kelsey to the kitchen with the others.
Drink this.
Aspirin is in the cabinet above the sink.
~T
Glenna poured herself a mug. The coffee was stronger than she liked, but she didn’t care, and downed it in three long swallows before dry-swallowing two aspirin.
She leaned against the counter, closing her eyes as the caffeine began to seep into her veins, and the edges of her headache dulled just enough to make her feel semi-human again.
Even with the hangover from hell, she didn’t want to have others look after her child, so she filled glass after glass of water and silently prayed the coffee gods would give her energy the kick in the pants it needed while she waited for the pain meds to work their magic.
I’m never, ever drinking again.
Ever.
TikTok Adlay, with your Starburst freaking tequila, this is all your fault.
By the time she made it to the main house, the kitchen looked like the aftermath of a particularly rowdy girls’ night, except instead of the glitter and empty tequila bottles of last night, there were groaning women sipping from half-empty mugs of coffee, and the unmistakable scent of grease from whatever fried food someone had had the foresight to make.
Petra was sprawled in a chair at the kitchen table, one arm draped dramatically over her face, the other hanging limp at her side.
Chaos was curled against her feet, snoring softly.
Marissa sat cross-legged on the floor beside the island, her back pressed against the cabinetry.
Her usually immaculate hair was a tangled mess, and her skin had a greenish tint that suggested she was one wrong move away from losing whatever was left in her stomach.
Kelsey, Jules and Ember were perched on stools at the island, their small legs swinging as they braided each other’s hair with far too much enthusiasm for this early in the morning. Their voices were bright, chirpy, entirely too loud for the collective hangovers in the room.
Kelsey spotted her a second later and waved wildly. “Mommy, I’m a hairdresser.”
Glenna managed to find the energy to smile. “That’s great, baby.”
Siobhán groaned from where she was slumped in a chair beside Petra, her head resting on her arms. “Ugh. If you’re going to be perky, take it somewhere else.”
Petra peeled her arm off her face just enough to squint at Glenna with one bloodshot eye. “How’s the head?”
“Fine,” Glenna lied, her voice coming out higher than she intended.
“Liar.” Marissa lifted her water bottle in a mock toast. “You look like I feel.”
“Thanks.” Glenna dragged out a chair and collapsed into it. The movement sent another pulse of pain through her skull.
“What happened to you?” Siobhán mumbled, squinting at Glenna with a mix of amusement and pity.
“I thought I could keep up with you guys.” Glenna lifted one shoulder. “Evidently, I was wrong.”
Petra laughed, the sound rough but genuine. “You held your own, girl. Until you didn’t.”
Her cheeks warmed, the gentle ribbing belying the camaraderie that had formed between them. It was a relief, both tentative and tangible. But the kitchen’s rich scent of coffee and whispered conversations knitted themselves into her consciousness, a temporary reprieve from her inner turbulence.
Petra yawned, stretching like a cat before Chaos decided to investigate her movement, muzzle nudging her hand. “Speaking of knack, think you’ve got the hang of surviving our chaos now?”
Glenna laughed, surprising herself with the ease of it. “I’d say I’m getting there. You guys aren’t half as intimidating as I first thought.”
“Wait till we’re fully awake.” Siobhán’s voice was dry as she reached over to swipe the last piece of toast from a plate. “Our normal resting bitch faces will be back in play.”
There was tentative belonging she hadn’t dared allow herself to hope for when she’d first been introduced to these women when she’d stumbled into their world.
But sometime over the last week, fueled by their daughters having lived the same trauma, and a whole lot of alcohol, tempered by the quiet moments of support, she’d been embraced by a sisterhood she hadn’t known could exist.
I hope we stay in touch when Kels and me go home.
As the morning settled around them, Glenna noticed the chatter slowly die down, the energy in the room softening into a peaceful lull. She took another sip of her coffee, feeling the remnants of her hangover recede with each comforting swallow.
I just have to make it to where my head doesn’t pound.
One minute at a time.
One foot in front of the other.
I’ve got this.
***
“See you later.” Jorja stuck her head in the door of the kitchen. “Me and Gunnar are going up the hills for dinner.”
“Have fun.” If poor Jorja had to work all day with a hangover, then she more than deserved to be taken out for dinner.
“Ready?” Gunnar arrived carrying two helmets. “Let’s go, baby. I want to beat traffic out of town.”
“Coming.” Jorja waved at the women and followed her husband out into the evening.
“I wouldn’t be able to ride a bike today if you paid me.” Serena pressed one hand to her temple. “It’s almost five thirty in the evening, and my body still thinks it’s dying a slow, painful death.”
“Right.” Glenna agreed. “I’m going to take Kelsey home and make whatever is as simple as possible.”
Serena picked up her phone and tapped out a message: “I’m telling Remi it’s his turn to cook.”