It was night, stars dotting the sky. Nia Mitchell, high heels in hand, stumbled drunkenly down the road.
Watching the taxi carrying Fiona Sutton drive away, she leaned against a lamppost and began to throw up uncontrollably.
Familiar music buzzed in her ear. Telephone? Nia slumped to the ground, fumbled in her bag, and started emptying its contents.
She found her incessantly flashing phone and hit the answer button.
"You’ve been drinking!" Maxwell Peary’s voice cut through her haze. He had been in the middle of dispatching everyone to find Nia. After countless calls, he’d finally gotten through, only to hear her slurred voice.
"Drinking? Oh yeah, I think so. I’m drunk. No more drinking for me."
Nia sat docilely beneath the streetlight, her face flushed, still as a chastened child.
Nia looked around. Where was she?
"I’m under a streetlight."
Which streetlight? Nia slowly lifted her head but, losing control of her body, crashed to the ground with a THUD.
"Stars... I’m under that star." Nia pointed to the sky. They’re so beautiful.
Maxwell hadn’t dared to hang up. When he finally found her, she was lying on the road, her small hands flailing as she babbled about wanting a star.
"Who allowed you to drink!" Maxwell was frantic by the time he reached her, and seeing her in such a state, anger flared. Anxiety and anger surged through him, and he roared at the figure on the ground.
Nia’s usually simple, elegant face bore a touch of light makeup. She wore a small dress, her high heels scattered haphazardly nearby.
He had never seen her dressed before.
Suddenly, Nia sat up and threw herself into his arms.
"I don’t want a divorce! I don’t want a divorce! I don’t want..."
She sobbed, her face streaked with tears, looking utterly heartbroken.
Maxwell reached out and wiped her tears.
"You’re drunk." He scooped her into his arms. His heart ached as he gazed at Nia’s eyes, red and swollen from crying, and he sighed under his breath.
"You were supposed to be home by five. Look at the time now," he grumbled as he settled her into the car, then sped away. Follow current ɴᴏᴠᴇʟs on 𝕟𝕠𝕧𝕖𝕝※𝕗𝕚𝕣𝕖※𝕟𝕖𝕥
Nia groggily opened her eyes, a splitting headache assailing her.
Tapping her throbbing head, she sat up and looked around.
Why did her head hurt so much?
Nia racked her brain. Oh, right! Last night, she and Fiona went drinking, and then...
She’d put Fiona in a taxi, Uncle Peary had called, and then...
How did she get back?
She picked up her phone and glanced at it. Ten o’clock.
Nia’s eyes flew wide. Ten o’clock!
She had to go to work! Crap, she was late!
Just then, the bedroom door swung open, and Maxwell walked in carrying a glass of water.
"Awake?" His face was as impassive as ever. She nervously glanced up at him, trying to read his expression, but could make out nothing.
Maxwell handed her the glass of water.
"Drink." Two curt words left his throat. He wasn’t in his usual at-home attire of a simple shirt today; he wore a black suit, looking very formal and stern.
"Last night... How... How did I get back?" After a moment’s thought, Nia decided to ask the most common question in the most tactful way she could.
"You told me you were under a star and asked me to pick you up."
"You were a sobbing mess, clinging to me, begging me not to divorce you."
"You threw up all over me, and then..."
"Stop talking!" Mortified, Nia cut off Maxwell’s litany of accusations. Her mind went blank.