Page 76 of Love or Tequila in Unexpected Places

Allison smiled, leaning into her friend’s comforting presence. “Thanks, Ami. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Lucky for you, you’ll never have to find out,” Amira replied with a wink. “Now go on, get back to work before your father has a meltdown. And promise me you’ll think about what I said.”

“I promise,” Allison said, though she wasn’t entirely sure what she would do.

Maybe Amira was right. Maybe it was time to stop overthinking and start talking. But for now, she had to focus on getting through the rest of the day.

One step at a time, she reminded herself.One step at a time.

Nineteen

ALLISON

FOUR MONTHS AGO

Allison had been constantly tired for years, but today was the final straw.

Her father had turned a twenty-four-hour day into an endless cycle of meetings, squeezing in every possible moment with back-to-back obligations she was expected to attend.

In his eyes, Allison’s worth was measured by her results, not by her needs. She barely ate, barely slept, often surviving ongranola bars until dizziness forced her to remember that her body needed more than just whole-grain snacks.

She missed having friends.

Her days were a lonely grind, devoid of casual conversations or social breaks. Johnathan was too wrapped up with his nosy girlfriend, Susan, and training under their father to eventually take over the company. Leopold had escaped to L.A., living his best life while dodging family responsibilities—something Allison wished she could do. Frederick was buried in work, striving for a promotion, and when he wasn’t working, he was catering to his girlfriend, Christine.

Glancing at the digital clock on her desk, Allison sighed. It was nearly nine o’clock, four hours past the time she was supposed to leave. She rubbed her temples, questioning the point of all these extra hours, of her job, of her life.

Happy birthday to me, she thought bitterly.

It had been months since she’d last spoken to Amira, and she had never spent a birthday alone before. She had hoped it wouldn’t bother her so much, and she’d tried drowning herself in meetings and paperwork to avoid thinking about it.

Surprisingly, it worked—until 5 PM, when everyone else, even her father, had gone home. She was the only one left, still slaving over words and numbers. Her eyes ached from staring at documents for so long that the letters had started to blur together, and the onset of a headache pulsed behind her eyelids.

I need a fucking break.

The thought came suddenly, like a light bulb switching on. She could go out—by herself, of course—but she didn’t have to stay out long. She was exhausted, but it was her birthday. She deserved to celebrate, even if it was just one drink.

Her brothers had called, but their birthday wishes were brief, overshadowed by their own busy lives. Her father hadn’t even bothered to acknowledge the day, and Amira hadn’t texted. Themore she thought about it, the more appealing the idea became. She’d rush home for a quick shower and outfit change—because there was no way she was going out in her work clothes on her fucking birthday—and have just one drink. By midnight, she’d be back in bed, Kindle in hand.

It’s the perfect plan.

Forty minutes later, Allison was circling the parking lot nearThe Olive, looking for a spot. The roads hadn’t been too busy, and her apartment was only a fifteen-minute drive away. She had taken the fastest shower of her life, careful not to get her hair or face wet to avoid redoing her makeup. She picked a dress she hadn’t worn in ages and slipped into a matching pair of heels. Letting her hair down, she swiped on some red lipstick, thankful she’d curled her hair that morning.

Her heels click-clacked on the pavement as she approached the bar. She had to actively stop herself from feeling self-conscious; it had been too long since she’d gone out, and she had never done it alone. As she walked, her mind raced with every possible thing that could go wrong.

What if I fall on my face right here?

Or what if I trip and fall in the bar?

Oh my God, what if I slip off the bar stool and a hot guy sees it?

Or if a guy smiles and I smile back and he’s taken?

Or he isn’t even smiling at me and just at someone behind me?

She forced herself to quiet her thoughts as she opened the door toThe Olive. The music hit her all at once, and she silently admired the soundproofing of the place.

That’s how you know you’re an adult—when you’re impressed by soundproofing.

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