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“That’s the understatement of the century. That paperweight could have done some damage, you know?” He huffs out a breath, but I can tell he’s going to forgive me.

Bryce has been there since the early days of my business, has been there since when I couldn’t afford to pay him, and I consider him a close friend.

I plop down in a chair next to him, and he glances over at me, eyes narrowed.

“This is about Meredith, isn’t it?”

“How did you know?”

He rolls his eyes. “Sorry, stupid question.”

I smile, feeling better for the first time in days. “Listen, Bryce, how are you at being a wingman?”

“I'm an amazing wingman.”

“Then let's go out,” I say determinedly. Maybe it’s time to finally be with someone else. Hell, she certainly had.

“You want me to find you someone to sleep with?”

“I need to get this woman out of my system.” I stand up. “Are you with me, Bryce?”

He sighs. “I feel like this ends with you getting wasted and me carrying you home.”

I snort. “Maybe, I’m not going to lie to you.”

“Okay.” He stands, too. “I guess I’ll go if it’ll keep you from throwing heavy objects at me tomorrow.”

“Take me somewhere I’ve never been.” I don’t want him to suggest Bennigan’s. Too many memories there.

“I’ll take you to the hottest club in town.”

When we arrive at the place, called Jingles, of all things, we’re able to skip the line.

Bryce takes my hand, “He’s with me.”

I let him drag me inside.

He drops my hand right away, and we head to the bar.

I order the same thing I always do, a double whiskey, neat. It’s not even like I enjoy the taste of it, I don’t. I’ve tried all kinds of expensive liquor since I became a billionaire, but I like the house whiskey’s burn the best.

It’s like Meredith always said—no one likes the taste of alcohol, it’s just the effects. And it’s the effects I want tonight.

I need to be loose, able to flirt, to try not to think about Meredith writhing under someone else.

Three doubles later, the room is spinning, and a redhead is on my arm. I vaguely remember her trying to kiss me and me turning away.

The next thing I know, Bryce has my arm around his shoulder, and we’re careening down the street. “I knew this was going to happen.”

“You’re a good friend, Bryce,” I manage in a slur, and he drags me to the elevator, shoving me inside.

“You can make it from here. Call me if you don't choke on your own vomit.”

“You have such a way with words.” I hang on to the elevator’s railing as the doors close.

I hum a song as I hold onto the wall, heading to my hotel room, a song that Meredith and I used to dance to at Bennigan’s.

I don’t even remember getting inside the room, but soon enough, I’m lying on the bed, half-dressed, with my phone in my hand and Meredith’s contact pulled up.