Page 5 of War

The girl’s blue eyes dance. “Okay. Cheers, then.” She holds up her drink, which has an adorable yellow and pink umbrella in it.

As if on autopilot, I lift my glass, causing the liquid to slosh over the side a little, wetting my hand, and tap it against hers. Then, with a deep breath in, I take a sip.

Instantly and without my permission, my body shudders. Oh no. No. No. No. The bitterness is too much. Rubbing my tongue over the roof of my mouth, hoping to get rid of the taste, I set my glass downand push it away. What kind of person would willingly order this? It’s awful.

The girl beside me covers her mouth to keep from spitting out her own drink because she’s laughing so hard. “Billy, can you make my new friend here something fruity?”

I wave a hand. “Oh, that’s—” My refusal dies off when my brain snags on one little word she used.

Friend.

Warmth blooms in my chest and in my cheeks.

I don’t know if I’ve ever had a friend.

“No, it’s not okay. I’m celebrating tonight, and if you don’t have a drink, you can’t properly get in on the toast.”

I laugh at her honesty. “Okay. Billy, please make me something fruity.”

With a chuckle, the bartender slides the disgusting concoction away from me, but my new friend stops her. “Wait, Hannah is on her way. She’ll drink that.”

Shrugging, the woman steps away and gets to work making a drink partway down the bar.

“What’s your name?”

“Ava. And you’re…?”

“Besides your new best friend?” She teases with a big smile. “I’m Sara.”

Best friend?Giddiness bubbles up inside me. Maybe I’m too old to get this excited, but I’m relishing it, nonetheless. “And what are you celebrating?”

Billy returns, this time bringing a drink adorned with a pretty little umbrella just like Sara’s. She doesn’t walk away. Instead, she studies me, as if waiting for me to take a sip. So I bring the glass to my lips and savor the fruity flavor.

Sara beams like she knew I would like it. “My friend Hannah—who is perpetually late—and I got promoted today.”

“That’s amazing. What do you do?”

“We work in PR for Langfield Corp. She handles the Boston Revs, and I work with the hockey team.”

Excitement rattles through my bones, and my spine snaps straight. “I just got hired by the Langfields.”

Her eyes go wide, and she slaps a hand to the bar. “Oh my god. Shut up!”

I giggle. This girl is too much, but in the best way. I’ve never met someone who shows her every emotion so freely. She’s loud, energetic, and kind.

She’s a Carrie. I can feel it. My sister would love her.

“Yes, I’ll be working in the charitable relations department.”

Though I’m from halfway across the country and not very familiar with sports in general, I recognized the Langfield name when I received the email in response to the application my sister filled out for me. They’re well-known all over the US, and probably in other countries, and not just because of the five gorgeous Langfield siblings—four of whom are single—or because they have more money than the royal family. No, I was familiar with them because of their charity work.

The Langfields donate an obscene amount to medicine yearly. Especially children’s hospitals that specialize in cancer research.

Working for them is a dream I would never have even considered. One that, if I think too hard on, may make me burst into tears.

“Oh my gosh. Your office is on the same floor as mine.” Sara squeals. “This is going to be so amazing.”

“What’s amazing?” A woman appears on Sara’s other side, settling on a stool and plopping her clutch down on the bar. Her wavy hair is a lush chocolate brown, and her almond-shaped blue eyes are fanned by the longest lashes I’ve ever seen. Just above her lip is a small Cindy Crawford–type beauty mark. Her clutch is Louis Vuitton, and her shoes are Louboutin, making her quite possibly the coolest person I’ve ever seen. “I could just about kill Damiano right now, so I could really use good news. Oh, and please tell me that drink is mine.”

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