Chapter 22

22

From the pages of Truly’s Drink Recipe Book

A Little Hanky Panky:

Champagne, Straight Up

You tell yourself you’ll stick to the plan.

You know you can do it.

Hell, you’ve done it for a while now. For years, even. For as long as you’ve known that guy, the one you can’t stop thinking about.

You go over the reasons. You list them, highlight them, stick them to a Post-it, and slap it on the fridge.

But then there are the things he says, dirty and sweet, entertaining and thoughtful. The way he listens—the way he talks. How he holds the door, pulls out your chair, takes your coat.

He’s a man in a city that is teeming with boys.

Or maybe it’s simpler. Maybe it’s how he touches your hand, your waist, your hair. Perhaps it’s the tender way he meets your gaze when you demand a dance, or the hint of vulnerability that flashes across his amber eyes.

Or it could be that, once again, you’re away from the city.

You’re not in that five-mile radius of your regular life, your regular job, and your regular people.

This is an escape, and you know when you indulge in that first sip of champagne it’s going straight to your head. Not just the drink, but the night, the dress, the tux, and the talking.

When you take that sip, it tastes like a getaway, like a delicious secret, like a treasure to grab tight.

Times like this, when the man you want takes your hand at a wedding, you’re already in a champagne state of mind.