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I swallow hard as I step closer, fists up.

I really am an idiot.

Fuck, this is going to hurt.

12

Randi

November

The glass of champagne between my pinched fingers has long since warmed, and the last of the dying bubbles pop to the top. My fake smile hasn’t faltered once since we arrived as I nod, laugh when appropriate, and offer phony words of agreement.

At least the party was an excuse to buy a new pair of shoes.

Flicking my gaze down to the floor, I smile at the nude high-heel sandals. Sure, they cost a fortune, but they make me happy. And goodness knows I need some happy in my life right now since I can’t be with Trey.

Just the thought makes the practiced smile falter. Scanning the room, I press the balls of my toes harder to the floor as I stretch high in hopes of catching a glimpse of Trey.

Disappointment washes through me, making the sadness from the past couple weeks come rushing back. The past three weeks have been miserable. The worst three weeks of my adult life so far.

Okay, that's a bit dramatic. Being poisoned was obviously the worst week of my adult life.

But the past three weeks are in the top ten, for sure, with having to see him dressed up with Jessica smiling on his arm instead of me at all the functions we’ve attended. Watching them is torture, yet I can’t stop.

I miss him, desperately. Sure, I see him when he's on shift, which is just about every day, but I miss us. The easy laughter, the conversations, the friendship. Things have been awkward, making me wonder if we'll ever get back to the ease of things.

“I need to get laid,” I grumble.

Sam and the senator shoot a confused look my way but keep talking.

Whatever.

“You're frowning, honey,” Sam says into my ear.

I fight the urge to rub my shoulder against the ear his breath tickled. “Sorry,” I mutter. Turning my face up, I offer my biggest, fakest smile. “Better?” I say through clenched teeth.

“A lot worse, actually.” He laughs, then flicks his gaze to the champagne glass. “Why do you always grab a glass if you won’t drink it?”

“That’s exactly why I grab it.” Slowly, I ease the overzealous smile to relieve the ache in my cheeks. “If I don't like it, then I don't have to worry about drinking too much and doing something stupid.”

“Like what?”

Biting my lip, I scan the crowd. “Oh, you know, like walking up to Kyle over there and punching him in the throat.”

I startle at Sam's sudden laugh.

“Seriously?”

I lift a bare shoulder in a half shrug. “I've always had to hold myself back from physical violence with him. One time I even launched a coffee mug at his head—in the Oval Office, mind you. Holding back was easier before though.”

“And why's that?” he says, humor in his voice.

“Sa—” T's threats of ever mentioning his wife flash across my mind. “I mean, my trainer taught me self-defense, so now I know how to hit, where to make it hurt. So now that makes holding back that much more difficult. Before, it was just all a fun fantasy. Now I can actually do it.”

“Your fantasies are strangely violent.”

“You have no idea. I also have several involving utilizing unicorns as weapons of mass destruction.”