Page 8 of Homewrecker

Alcohol had loosened her tongue. Four martinis in a row on a mostly empty stomach could do that, but it was also the only way she’d been able to get through the cocktail hour. And that had been after hiding in the bathroom for the first half of it to make sure no one dragged her out to be part of the family photos.

Fuck that.

Staring up at Rebecca’s hot dad, she knew she should keep her mouth shut, but the words came out, anyway. His expression was shocked enough, she started to giggle, slapping her hand over her mouth to muffle the noise, but it only worked so well.

“Sorry, sorry, probably shouldn’t have asked that.” She managed to stifle her giggles as she turned away from him. Still, she had to wonder what he was thinking about his daughter marrying her dad. Wonder why he was over here talking to her.

“No, it’s okay. It’s an… odd situation.”

That was one way of putting it.

The bartender put a glass of water down in front of her. She should probably drink that. That would be the responsible thing to do.

But she wasn’t sure she wanted to be responsible right now.

Still, she grabbed the water glass in one hand and the martini glass in the other and hopped down from the stool she’d been sitting on. Attempted to hop, anyway. She stumbled, her knees weaker than she’d realized from all the alcohol, and the room spun.

“Whoops, I’ve got you.” Mr. Black’s strong arms wrapped around her, holding her up, and Ashley’s unfocused gaze came to rest on her martini. It was still half-full, so she had that going for her. As Mr. Black straightened, Ashley looked up at him, blinking.

He really was hot as fuck. Why on earth was his wife cheating on him? Maybe he sucked in bed. Or maybe he was a shitty guy despite the current evidence to the contrary.

“Maybe you should leave the martini,” he said, reaching for it.

Ashley twisted away.

“Maybe you should mind your own business,” she retorted. “You didn’t stop your own daughter from her bad choices, why are you interfering with mine?”

Oops. There went the alcohol, making her say the ‘inside thoughts’ again. She couldn’t even bring herself to feel regret as Mr. Black froze in place, his expression blanked. Then he stepped back, dropping his hand down and tugging his tuxedo jacket into place.

“You’re right, of course,” he said. Abruptly, he turned and walked away, forgetting his drink.

Dammit.

Ashley fought against the urge to chase after him and apologize. What she’d said was true. She hadn’t had the ability to stop her father from his actions because she was his kid, but surely, Mr. Black and his wife could have donesomething.Like not paying for this extravagant wedding.

This wedding was like rubbing it in her and her mother’s face that no one cared what Wiley and Rebecca had done. Nope. They weren’t just condoning it—they werecelebratingit. Celebrating the happy couple.

The most sympathetic person in the entire place was the damned bartender.

Seeing people looking at her, then quickly looking away, carrying on hushed conversations with those around them, Ashley lifted the half-full martini glass and quickly tipped the whole thing down her throat. She did keep a hold of the water, too. Just because she wanted to get drunk didn’t mean she wanted to be entirely wasted.

Though her dad and Rebecca would deserve it, Ashley didn’t want to make an entire fool out of herself. It wouldn’t reflect badly on them… it would reflect badly on her. She got the feeling she’d just made a fool out of herself to Mr. Black, and she didn’t like that feeling. Not at all.

Even if it was partly his fault that they were all there today. Her mood darkened as she sat back down at the bar. Who the hell was he to judge her for having a few too many drinks athis daughter’s weddingtoherfather?! Seriously? He was throwing a literal party for his daughter’s bad decisions. A few too many drinks were nothing compared to that.

Fucking hypocrite.

It would serve him right if Mrs. Black did catch him cheating. Get a bunch of extra money out of him that she didn’t deserve. Ashley knew Mrs. Black didn’t work, which meant this whole wedding was being paid for by Mr. Black. She wished she could mess up their lives the way they’d messed up hers.

You already thought of the answer, remember?

Fuck Mr. Black.

Take pictures and give them to Mrs. Black.

Fuck over Mr. Black.

Let Rebecca see how it feels to have her friend break up her parents’ marriage.

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