The cork popped with a satisfying thwack, sending a little mist of wine vapor into the air.
Sophia didn’t bother with niceties—she poured generously into two large glasses, filling them almost to the rim.
“I feel like we need this,” she said, dropping onto the couch like her body was made of lead.
Isabelle followed, sinking down beside her, curling her legs underneath herself. Her pulse still hadn’t settled from everything that almost happened with Sebastian. Her heart beat too fast, her skin too warm—and she was grateful for the excuse to shove it all aside for now.
She cradled the wineglass between her palms, breathing in the sharp, fruity scent.
Sophia took a long sip, leaned her head back dramatically against the couch, and sighed like a woman twice her age. “Men are exhausting.”
