I pushed the bottle back into its box and returned it to my bag. Sighing, I pulled the strap of my blue Marc Jacobs purse over my shoulder. I took an unsteady step forward, then another. My right leg buckled and I grabbed the edge of the bench for support.
Okay, I had this. I glanced around, and considered inducing a vomit. No one was around. No one would see if I hurried over to the closest palm, leaned against it, and let everything fly out.
A car drove by, on just the other side of the low iron gate, and I nixed the idea. I was only four blocks from home. I could make it there and into the privacy of my bathroom. With my luck, I’d do it here and end up with chunks of last night’s pizza all over the front of my shirt.
Gathering myself, I aimed for the gate and made it out and onto the sidewalk without incident. I kept my eyes on the sidewalk ahead of me and plodded, one foot in front of the other, to the stop sign at the cross section of the nearest street. My street. I just needed to hang a right and go three blocks and ... voilà. I’d be home. Easy peasy.
Jeez, I was thirsty. My tongue felt like it was caked in dryness. An ice cube right now would be glorious.
Glorious.That was a word you didn’t hear enough of. In fact, with over a thousand obituaries written, I’d never once used the wordglorious. I could have fit it in.She lived a glorious life as a...I frowned. Maybegloriouswasn’t a good adjective for an obit.
“Lillian?” Someone was calling my name and I straightened, realizing I was leaning against the stop sign.
It was Sam, my knight in a shiny black SUV, his window down, looking at me as if I had two heads. “Are you lost?” He chuckled and waved at me. “Come on. Get in.”
I looked left, right, left, making sure that no cars were in sight, then carefully made my way over to the passenger door and climbed in. Dropping my bag by my feet, I turned to him. “Hi. Nice car.”
“Hi. Thank you.” He grinned at me from beneath a blue baseball cap. “You look drunk.”
“I’m fairly drunk,” I admitted. “I may have dipped into the liquor cabinet after you left.”
“Well, here.” He lifted a Starbucks cup out of the cup holder.
“Oh, I love you forever.” I cupped the pumpkin spice latte reverently with both hands. “Were you bringing this to me?”
He smiled at me. “You seemed down this morning. I wanted to check back in with you, figured you could use the caffeine.”
“Bless you, child.” I took a deep sip, then another. I closed my eyes and set my head back on the rest. “I’ve got this meeting with the attorney at two.”
“You got plenty of time. Don’t worry.” He took a right on the street before our block.
“Wait, take me home.” I pointed limply toward the direction of our house.
“I will. I just need to check on a listing real quick. Just relax. You need to sober up a little before Mike sees you anyways.” He tapped the screen and pressed an icon, and my seat reclined.
I groaned in appreciation and took another sip of my latte. “You should have gotten the venti.”
He chuckled and made a slow turn down a residential street. “Greedy girl. Most people would just say thank you.”
“Thank you. Next time get the venti.” I took another long pull and then shook the cup, indicating how empty it almost was. I reached over and squeezed his arm. “I’m just kidding.”
“Sort of,” he countered.
“Sort of,” I agreed.
“I solemnly swear to never buy you another minuscule-size pumpkin latte.” He placed his hand on his heart to underline the vow.
“Thank you.” Leaving my hand on his arm, I noticed the white gloves he was wearing. “What’s with the gloves?”
“They’re moisture gloves.” He nodded toward my knees. “Want to try them? There’s an extra pair in a bag by your feet.”
I waved off the offer, the glove box too far away for me to reach from my reclined position. “This car is nice.” I looked in the back seat. “Is it new?”
“Loaner from the dealership.”
“Cool. Oh, Sam?” I yawned.
“Yeah?”