Page 71 of A Very Addicted Christmas

Rose shakes her head repeatedly. “You should never drink disgustingmysterypunch or something unopened that some stranger has handed you. How many times have I told you and your siblings that?”

Ben watches us interrogate his sister while he wipes flour off the counter and into a trash bag. I haven’t forgotten about him. I never could. I never would.

Audrey stares at her lap. “Father.” She sounds pitiful.

My lips rise, and Rose says to me, “She’s playing you.”

“She’s trying,” I say, and yes, Audrey can hear us very clearly.

She lets out a melodramatic sigh. “Okay, it was me.” I hand her the Ziff and she takes tiny sips. “I was in charge of the punch.”

“What were the ingredients then?” I ask, still having doubts she was the sole contributor.

“Cherry Fizz, orange juice, vodka, gin, pink lemonade…and Skittles.”

“Skittles?” I arch a brow.

“That is absolutely revolting,” Rose cringes.

We've been through this six times before. We're not shocked by the underage drinking. I went to boarding school as a teen. I socially drank. I'd be deluded to think my children wouldn't test these waters themselves. We always told them that if they were to drink, we'd appreciate if they were with their older siblings or better yet, at home with us and under our supervision.

Though I'm aware this might be the first time she's ever been drunk.

“It was regrettable in so many ways,” Audrey winces, looking sick.

Rose dabs her forehead again, and our daughter relaxes, eyes shutting closed.

I rub my fingers against my mouth, and I turn my head. “Did you try the punch?” I ask Ben.

“No. I just had a couple beers.”

Rose splays the cloth over Audrey’s forehead. “Did the other girls drink any alcohol?”

“Nona didn’t,” Ben says. “I don’t know if Kinney tried the punch, but I think Vada was drinking it.” Off his uneasy glance towards Audrey, I’m suspecting Vada helped our daughter make the punch.

Rose and I exchange a knowing look. There’s more we need to know. “Who disabled the security system and why?” I ask.

Ben scratches the back of his head. “Audrey, you want to take this?”

“I’m not at liberty to?—”

Rose removes the washcloth and takes a few steps away.

“But Mother!” Audrey bolts upright in her chair. “I’m ill?—”

“You drank too much. You threw up. The consequences of your actions tonight.”

Audrey tries not to cry. “It’s my pre-birthday.”

Rose nearly crumbles.

I step in. “It’s important that we know how you disabled the security system. It shouldn't have been that easy. Did you ask Jane or Charlie or Beckett for the passcodes?”

“No,” Audrey murmurs, taking a bigger swig of Ziff.

“Did you figure it out yourself?”

She shakes her head. “We all thought none of you would approve of our party, and I really wanted to have it here, so…”

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