Page 15 of Fourth Point Of Contact

I nodded, taking another swig of wine. “I would have been a beautiful bride.”

“You would have. But you know what you would have been even better at?”

“Huh?”

She walked behind me and pulled me up by my armpits. “You would have been an even better extortionist.”

I snorted at that. “Girl, I can barely touch my toes.”

“Not a contortion— never mind. It’s not important.”

“I can’t believe I replaced one of my fantasy characters with James! I’m so stupid!”

Sighing, she dropped me and walked back around to squat in front of me. “You actually gave up one of your men?”

I nodded pitifully. “I replaced Cassian with him.

She gasped in shock, shaking her head at me. “You did what?”

I flung myself to the side and whimpered, beating the floor. “I know! It was so stupid! How could James ever beat Cassian?”

“Well, not only because he’s a fictional character with magical powers, but also because are you fucking stupid?” she snapped. “I’m sorry, but no man can ever top a fictional character!”

“I know,” I cried. “Because they’re not real!”

“That and, have you seen the reels on Facebook of Cassian and Rhysand? No real-life man could look like that!”

“I know! It was so stupid! And my card was laminated! It was the final fake boyfriend card, and I just threw that all away.”

“I mean, it was stupid to laminate just because another book boyfriend might come along, but James, of all people? What were you thinking?”

“I was thinking that I was going to marry him,” I cried. “I was going to be Mrs. James Johnson!

“Sorry, but did you really want your last name to reference a dick?”

She had a point. I wiped the tears from my face and shook my head. “Can I sleep on your couch tonight?”

“We already covered this.”

“We did?”

She dragged me over to the couch and plopped me down. “Yes. Besides, you’re too drunk to drive.”

“I don’t have a car. Or a license. Or a man to drive me around. Or a driver.” I looked over at her and sighed. “You know what I really loved?”

“The driver?”

I shook my head. “The way he smelled when he came.”

She grimaced, turning away from me. “I don’t need to know this.”

“Seriously, he would come and then he would bury his face in my neck and I could smell the sweat in his hair. And some women don’t like the smell of sweat, but on him, it was so fucking good.”

“Alright,” she chuckled. “I think that’s enough wine for you.”

As she tried to pull the bottle away, I yanked it back, frowning at her. “No. I need more liquor.”

“This hardly counts. Besides, wine will get you nowhere.”

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