Leslie
“More,” I rasped, holding out my cup at the bartender. He looked at me in concern.
“That would be the sixth glass, Miss. Isn’t that-”
“I asked for more, sir. Not for some unsolicited sermon. Pour me a glass.” I ordered. I knew I was being rude, but I didn’t care. It was hard to, when you’d just been betrayed by none other but the person you loved for more than two years.
The bartender sighed and did just as I instructed. I dipped my head slightly as I accepted the glass in an attempt to compensate for my rudeness . The raw taste of the alcohol burnt my throat, and I winced. I normally didn’t drink, and tonight was the second time I was drinking so hard. The first had been when–
I couldn’t recall. My mind was hazy.
“Why is a gorgeous lady sitting all by herself on such a cold
