LAST NIGHT
James Sinclair
“Alright,” Amber said, leaning back with a sigh, “I’m here, and I’m listening. But you better start talking, James. You’re paying me triple, after all.”
I stared at the liquid swirling in my own glass, not sure where to begin. The alcohol was numbing, but it wasn’t doing the job fast enough. My mind still swam with all the mistakes I’d made. Olivia.
God, I’d messed everything up.
I let out a slow breath. “I’ve been stupid.”
Amber’s laugh was sharp. “That’s putting it lightly.”
I gave her a sideways glance, and she smirked.
“Come on, Sinclair,” she prodded, “what are you even doing, messing around with some kid? I mean, what is she—early twenties? And your best friend’s daughter, no less?” She shook her head like it was the most absurd thing she’d ever he
