The Blackmail Bride

Chapter 48 Part 1

Just moved into the city again. Adulting yay! T-T

Sobering

I was never drinking again.

That was my first thought upon abruptly waking up alone in the bed. I immediately ran into the en suite bathroom to throw up in the toilet bowl. It was a grueling process. My eyes watered and my nose stung. The taste of alcohol mixed with bile on an empty stomach was the worst I'd known in my eighteen years of existence.

It was a solid ten minutes before I got my head out of the toilet bowl. And another ten minutes to lie a weak, shivering hungover mess on the cool tiled floor. It was embarrassing how I pulled myself up to a standing position to get myself out of there.

I didn't want to stand up really, but the pounding in my head told me I was better off lying on the soft bed rather than the cold bathroom floor and getting even more sick than I already was.

"What the hell was I thinking?" I grumbled wearily.

As soon as I got out though, the half-empty bottle of alcohol on my bedside table was enough to return the nauseated feeling tenfold. And automatically, my hand covered my mouth to push down the feeling. My stomach was already empty, all that would accomplish would be painful squeezing on my stomach muscles. I couldn't do it anymore.

I had to get back to the bed and get back under the covers... or get lots of water down my throat. Water which I could've gotten from the sink in the bathroom. The extra process made me want to cry.

So, which did I do now? Go to bed, or get back into the bathroom? Both felt like too much effort.

"Let me guess," an amused voice spoke from the door, "You're sick, aren't you?"

My head snapped in that direction and the sudden movement made my already throbbing head even more... throbby.

Jace stood there. In a t-shirt and black silk pajama bottoms. His bronze hair was tossed to one side carelessly and his gray eyes gleamed as it reflected the morning light. He looked refreshed, a tall glass of some drink in his hand.

My eyes squinted at him, and I felt even more terrible to realize he knew I had been drinking last night.

I didn't reply and he sighed, "Our bedroom smells like a bar."

With lithe steps, the man approached me, and placed the glass in my hand with a strict command, "Drink all of it."

He side-stepped me and went for the French doors that opened our room to one side of our yard. Fresh air immediately blew into the room, hitting my heated face. My messy hair fluttered before settling back around my shoulders.

"Drink it," Jace repeated when he turned back to find me staring after him, "That will sober you up quickly."

My eyes fell onto the mushy yellow—bananas, it smelled so—in my glass. But I couldn't bring it to my lips.

I was somewhat already sobered up.

The sight of Jace in front of me was all it took to bring me back to yesterday—to why I was drinking in the first place.

"It's just bananas, milk and honey," Jace said, approaching me, "There's nothing weird in—"

A stumbling step back in response from me made him pause. The fairly relaxed expression he was sporting on that face turned serious.

I was sniffling, I realized. Tears already sliding down my face. With my free left hand, I started hastily wiping at my cheeks. But that was ineffective, little saltwater streams decorated my scarlet face. I must've looked the untidiest I'd ever been then.