Page 10 of One Vow

But I’d waited until he left then called her. There’d been no pleasure. Not then. Not now. “Sofia, no.”

“You did it while he was here?” She took a swig straight from the bottle. “Bold.”

She swiped the back of her hand over her mouth. “But I get it.”

Seriously, I needed counsel. Advice. Her special brand of man-wisdom. But in her defense, I hadn’t managed to tell her the part about him being engaged. Probably info she needed before we figured out what to do. In my defense, I didn’t think she would have been drinking on a night when she didn’t have a date. Although, in hindsight, I probably should’ve asked how much she’d had before I sent up the SOS flare, then commenced to Cuervo-ing my afternoon away.

“I don’t even know why we’re friends.” I snatched the bottle and took a giant gulp.

“I know. I totally would’ve slept with him first then freaked out later.” She shook off whatever thought was going through her head, probably a Finn fantasy I should’ve hated her for. “Okay. So, here’s what we know. He looks good.”

I nodded and she tapped her finger against her chin. “And he smells good.”

Another nod.

“And you didn’t have sex with him?” She asked it quickly, as if to make sure I wasn’t fibbing.

“No.” I crossed my arms over my chest, bottle pressed into my ribs. I didn’t want to share my Cuervo anymore.

She took the bottle back, and I waited until she pressed it to her lips. Because news like mine was best digested along with a big glug of alcohol. “And it’s my fault we’re still married. I think I burned the divorce papers instead of filing them.”

She took the bottle, drank then passed it back to me. “Shut up.”

“And he’s engaged to someone else.”

“Oh fuck.” She took another drink, hugged the bottle to her chest, looking more needy than I felt. And that said something since I was about six seconds from rolling into a ball and whimpering until I lost consciousness from either hyperventilation or drunkenness. “Did you burn them on purpose?”

“What?” Of course, I did. But I wasn’t to the point I could admit it to either of us.

“You were pretty…crazy when you got them in the mail.” She took a swig and hugged the bottle. “I mean, no one would’ve blamed you. Hell, no one would now, either.”

She shrugged one shoulder and twisted her lips to one side. “Except maybe Finn. And his fiancée.”

Fiancée? Whoever she was…I hated her.

We passed the bottle back and forth a couple times, but instead of numbing me to the flares of attraction to Finn that I couldn’t escape because my mind had too vivid memories of him in various…positions in my house, the tequila made my lust shine brighter and bigger.

“So, he looked good, huh?”

“Oh yeah.” I picked up my phone, inspired. “I should call him, right?”

Because…tequila.

I poised my finger, let it hover over the keypad to dial random numbers since I didn’t have his. Thankfully, she snatched it away, but drunk me had a plan. “I’ll just send him a telepathic message.”

Which wouldn’t have worked had I not pointed my index finger at the center of my forehead while I closed my eyes and stood on one foot. As soon as the message left my mind on its cosmic journey to his, I giggled as I yanked the door open, not because anyone knocked or rang the bell, but because I was drunk and telepathic.

I turned to look out the door and my eyes went wide. “Holy shit. I’m telepathic.”

Finn stood on the porch in the same outfit as this afternoon, the same smile I’d fallen in love with all those years ago.

“I didn’t think the hotel would be booked, so I didn’t make a reservation.” He frowned. “Turns out, bad plan.”

Sofia leaned over my shoulder for her first look at him in ten years. “Holy shit. You are so psychic.”

She stage whispered, “And you’re right. He’s still hot.”

I turned with every intention to shoot her a supersonic death glare, but I ended up nodding. “I know, right?”