Page 36 of If My Wishes Came True
I drink more wine and refill my glass when I’m done. Rinse, repeat. Before I know it, the bottle’s empty.
And I’mdrunk.
But at least I’m not thinking about Hunter.
“Play me some music on those fancy speakers of yours,” I tell Grady, hopping off my chair. The room spins a little. I pick up my plate to carry it to the sink, but he takes it from me with a quiet chuckle.
“I’ve got it,” he says, because I guess he doesn’t trust me with his gazillion-dollar fine china.
Whatever, Grady.
“You want some water?” he offers. “Or coffee?”
“No, thanks!” I say, shaking my head vehemently. My brain is just the right amount of fizzy to forget all about my man troubles. “Music, please!” I remind him. “I wanna dance.”
“Your wish is my command,” he says as I follow him to the living space. I plop down on the couch while he fiddles with electronic thingies.
“I take it you’re a fan of Lola?” he asks, playing her newest album.
“I mean, who isn’t, right? She’s a freaking genius.” I kick off my heels and twirl around the room.
Grady stifles a laugh, but I don’t care. He’s just mad because he can’t dance like me.
Whoa. I’m dizzy.
“Have a seat,” he says, leading me to the couch. “I’m going to get you some water.”
“Grady Brooks…I’m tooootally fine,” I slur through a hiccup.
“I think you had a little too much wine,” he says with a sympathetic frown. “I feel bad. I probably should have said something when you kept pouring. You’re so petite, after all?—”
“Well, I wouldn’t be so petite if you weren’t so freakishly tall,” I tell him, which makes us both laugh. “And besides…the only reason I’m drunkity-drunk is because you fed me two tablespoons of fish with some leaves, and no carbs.”
Grady chuckles into his fist. “That’s a fair point,” he finally says.
“Do you have any cookies?” I ask through another hiccup.
He sighs. “Nope. But I do have another avocado. I could make you a vegan chocolate mousse?”
I pout. “I don’t want avocado anything…I want cookies. Charlie would have cookies.”
“Who’s Charlie?” Grady asks, amused.
“The man I’m in love with,” I reply, leaning back on the couch.
“Lucky guy,” Grady says, seeming sincere.
“He doesn’t know I love him yet,” I say, twirling my hair.
“Well, don’t waste too much time before you tell him,” Gradyadvises me. “I did that once, and I’m still kicking myself for it. She was the love of my life, and now…she’s the one who got away.”
“Who?” I ask, my eyes wide. I’ve always loved celebrity gossip. “Is she famous, too?”
Grady nods. He rolls up his left shirt sleeve and shows me a tattoo on the underside of his bicep.
“La vita è Bella,” I read slowly. “Life is beautiful?”
“That’s the literal translation, yeah,” he says. “But in this case, it means: Bella is life.”
