Drunk on Love by Jasmine Guillory

Author:Jasmine Guillory [Guillory, Jasmine]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Publishing Group
Published: 2022-09-20T00:00:00+00:00

Fourteen

MARGOT GOT OUT OF the shower and wrapped her longest, plushest bath towel around her body. She’d given two tours that day and pitched in for an hour in the tasting room, in between many phone calls and emails and voice mails. She had needed at least an hour of undivided time alone to commune with her spreadsheets for the party, update her to-do lists, stare at her conspiracy wall and check things off, and she hadn’t gotten it. The party was less than a month away, she had so much to do, so much was riding on it. So when she’d gotten home, hot, sweaty, and sad for reasons she didn’t want to think about, she’d dropped her laptop on the coffee table, pulled her hair into a bun on the top of her head, and gotten straight into the shower. She’d get work done after she felt like herself again.

After she dried herself off, she pulled on her favorite silk robe to cheer herself up. What she needed cheering up from, she didn’t have the time or inclination to dwell on just now.

He’d walked out just like that. Out of her office, where she’d been standing with Elliot and couldn’t really say anything to him, and then out of the tasting room, and had driven away. Had he walked out of her life, too? He didn’t smile at her or give her any looks like he wished she were alone in her office, or like he wished . . .

No, she wasn’t going to think about this now. What did it matter, anyway? They weren’t anything to each other, really. She should think about her robe. Wearing it did help. She’d splurged on it the year before, with visions of herself swanning around her house in it, lounging and drinking champagne and entertaining gentleman callers. It was deep red, with a floral pattern, and looked great on her. She rarely wore it, though. When she was at home, she was usually either working or snacking or both, and it felt too nice to wear while working, and she didn’t want to get pasta sauce or olive oil or Cheeto dust on it, so she usually kept it in her closet. But it wasn’t like she was going to change her work habits anytime soon, and it felt like a shame to let it just hang there in her closet. What good did it do her, just gathering dust? Absolutely none. Even if she got potato chips on it, she’d at least get the joy of wearing it.

She got a glass of water and sat down on the couch, her laptop in front of her. Was that a knock at her door? Sydney had texted that she might drop by with the sweater Margot had left at the restaurant the other night; it must be her. She was the only person who dropped by Margot’s house, anyway. Margot had assumed she was at the restaurant by now, but maybe

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