Page 11 of A Sinner's Truth

“Okay, the fact that you’re admitting I was right about anything tells me how desperate things have gotten. And is there a store or something? Where does one go to find a husband?”

“No idea, but let’s start with some alcohol. We can bar hop and find potential candidates,” I suggest.

“You know my offer still stands. I’ll marry you. We can have a marriage full of love. We can even get a dog. Just don’t ask for sex. I have to draw the line somewhere.” Drew laughs.

“Gross, and it can’t be you. Dad wouldn’t believe it. And he’d just have it annulled. I need someone who won’t back down from my father. I need someone who’d also be willing to go through a divorce without causing any issues when the time comes. But most of all, I need someone who won’t fall in love with me.” I list each item off on my fingers.

“With your peachy personality, I’m sure that last one won’t be a problem.” Drew chuckles to himself as he pushes up off the sofa.

“And yet, you chose to be my best friend. What does that say about you?” I toss out to his retreating back as he makes his way down the hall.

“Just as peachy. You’re like my soul sister. You are me in female form,” Drew calls out in my direction.

“A less slutty female form,” I remind him.

“Meh, I can’t help if I have a healthy sex drive. You should try it sometime. You might actually find you like it.”

“I have tried it, dipshit,” I tell him. He knows the handful of guys I’ve actually slept with, as well as the fact I’ve never had an orgasm I didn’t give myself. Which is why I don’t really bother trying to hook up anymore. It only leads to disappointment.

“Not with the right person,” Drew hollers back.

“I very much doubt you’re going to find a husband in here,” Drew says as we make our way through the dive bar. I wanted to go somewhere we haven’t been before. Somewhere that’s off the beaten track a little. But not too far off, if that makes sense.

“Well, we didn’t have any luck at the last place you suggested either. Who would have thought it’d be so hard to find a husband?” I huff as I lower myself down onto a barstool.

“Me. I warned you. I bet it’s not hard to find a wife, though,” he says, looking behind me.

I turn and see another hot little brunette. My friend is nothing but consistent. Drew has a thing for tiny brunettes. “Need me to wife you up?” I ask while turning back to face him.

“Nope, this night is about finding you a husband,” he says.

“I don’t mind. Honestly, bringing you along was probably not the best idea. No man is going to approach me or talk to me when they think I’m here with another guy.”

“You have a point,” Drew says.

“Go get yourself a wife. I’m fine. I’ll call you tomorrow. I’m going to go to the bar we passed a few blocks down,” I tell Drew.

“You’re not walking the streets by yourself,” he says. “I’ll come with you.”

“Not walking. Have you seen these heels? I’ve already called an Uber. Catch you later.” I kiss his cheek and walk out of the bar before he can try to change my mind. I can do this by myself.

I’ll just go, order myself a drink, and see what happens. If I go home alone, I go home alone. It’s not the end of the world.

“What can I get you?” The bartender smiles flirtatiously at me—well, that sure doesn’t happen when Drew’s ordering our drinks.

Huh, maybe leaving him behind was a good idea after all.

“I’ll have a vodka soda, with lime. Please,” I say, then add, “Double,” when he reaches for the glass. I need all the liquid courage I can get if I’m going to propose marriage to a complete stranger.

After my third drink, I still haven’t seen any potential buyers. I do, however, need to pee. Really badly. I slide off the stool and quickly grip on to the edge of the bar. The room is only spinning a little. Once I get my bearings, I walk down the back of the bar, following the light with the lady on it, indicating it’s the women’s bathroom.

You know that feeling when your bladder’s bursting at the seams and you finally get to empty it? It’s good. Probably a bit of TMI, but this is my story, and you’re here for it. So take the good with the bad, I guess.

After washing my hands and reapplying the light pink gloss to my lips, I walk—maybe stumble—out of the bathroom. I should give up. I’m not going to be able to find a husband. I don’t know what I was thinking. Deciding it’s time to leave, I reachinto my bag to pull out my phone when something or somebody knocks into me from the side.

I go tumbling, but I don’t hit the ground. Because when I look up again, I’m sitting on someone’s lap. A man’s lap. His hands gripping my waist and his fingers tightening and loosening against my skin.

“I… ah…”Shit, think, Aria. Say something.“Sorry?”

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