Silbie Luna just wanted to pass her classes and become the first undergrad co-captain for her derby team. She never thought shooting a promo for the athletic department would lead to a coveted role in a highly anticipated movie series. But not only...
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Silbie straightened the blanket over Maia, then reclaimed the chair she'd slept in for most of the night. Maia's reaction to the news about Dante and Bea wasn't what Silbie expected. No crying. No screaming. No tantrums filled with vile language and accusations.
Instead, she'd finished the bottle of wine, then polished off a half-gallon of pistachio-almond ice cream, all the while discussing plans to redecorate her apartment. After that, she spent the next twenty minutes puking up her guts, since alcohol and dairy didn't mix.
Once the binge ended, she curled into a ball on the sofa and drifted to sleep.
As much as Silbie wanted to help, she couldn't think of anything to do. All the consoling in the world wouldn't mend a broken heart. Personally, she wanted to choke the life out of Dante. His offer to help find Owen was admirable, but marrying Bea wasn't necessary. Silbie had money. At least she would as soon as she signed the sequel contract. And, there was nothing she'd rather spend it on than to bring Owen home.
Maia roused, then moaned.
"Are you okay? Can I get you anything?"
She sat up, ran her hands over her face, then stuck out her tongue. "Ugh, bleck. It tastes like a skunk died in my mouth."
Silbie jumped to her feet. "Let me get you some water." In a flash, she returned and handed the glass to Maia.
She gulped, then leaned her head back against the sofa. "I may need some excedrin. There's a bottle in the drawer next to the sink."
Again, Silbie made a dash to the kitchen, came back with the bottle, and shook two tablets into Maia's palm. "How bout I run you a nice warm bath? That always makes me feel better."
"Yeah, like you've ever had a hangover."
Maia must have realized the sting in her delivery because she quickly corrected herself. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to be snippy."
"That's okay. I understand." Silbie waited for her to say more, but when she didn't, Silbie did.
"It might help to talk about it."
Maia straightened and stared into space, then swung her attention to Silbie. "What's done is done. Water under the bridge. No need crying over spilled milk. Should I go on? I have a whole list of clichés to fit my situation. Oh, and the best one—what doesn't kill us makes us stronger."
"Maia..."
She held up her hand. "Stop! I should change that last one to if a bottle of wine and a carton of ice cream doesn't kill you, you'll wish it did. Funny how being drunk gave me clarity. None of this is Dante's fault. It's mine."
"Don't say that. You can't help how you feel about him."
"Felt. Past tense. And it is my fault. He made it clear from the beginning he wasn't the commitment type, although his marriage to Bea proves otherwise."
