Smoke curled around his features, blurring them. Only his eyes were clear, fixed on me with barely concealed impatience.
"Since you've had time to reflect, come apologize to Fiona."
Fiona sat nestled in Blake's arms, dressed head to toe in white, the picture of innocence. She swirled a glass of something potent, its proof unknown.
"I don't actually want to make things difficult for you."
"But you insulted my parents. Anyone would be upset, right?"
She paused, then gasped with theatrical surprise. "Oh, wait. I forgot. Your parents dumped you when you were little. You're just a pathetic thing nobody wanted."
I said nothing.
She set the glass on the coffee table and smiled. "Go ahead. Apologize."
I lowered my head. "I'm sorry."
Fiona shook her head. "Just words? That's not sincere at all. This is a hundred-and-twenty-proof drink. Finish it."
I stared at the green liquid fizzing in the glass and instinctively looked at Blake.
During those years I'd fought beside him to build everything from nothing, I'd destroyed my stomach at countless business dinners. I'd been rushed to the ICU more than once. Blake had been terrified. He swore he'd never let me touch alcohol again.