Before I could say a word, Florence let out a sharp, mocking laugh.
"You really know how to play a man, Brooklyn. With your history with Noel, who would dare bully you? That sickly makeup is impressively realistic, though. Must've taken you ages."
Noel had been about to stand, but her words made him settle back into his seat.
He tapped out a cigarette, leaned toward the lighter Florence held up, and lit it.
Smoke curled across his face, blurring his features. Only his eyes were clear, fixed on me with barely concealed irritation.
"Since you've had time to reflect, come apologize to Florence."
Florence sat nestled against Noel's chest in a white dress, the picture of innocence, swirling a glass of something strong in her hand.
"I don't actually want to make things hard for you."
"But you insulted my parents. Anyone would be upset, right?"
She paused, then gasped with exaggerated surprise. "Oh, I forgot. Your parents dumped you when you were little. If it weren't for Noel, you'd have starved to death."
I said nothing.
Noel sat stone-faced. He didn't say a word either.
Florence set the glass on the coffee table with a smile. "Drink up."
I lowered my head. "I'm sorry."
Florence shook her head. "Words are cheap. That's not sincere enough. This is 120-proof. Drink it."
I stared at the green liquid fizzing in the glass, and instinctively looked toward Noel.
During the years I'd stood beside him while he built his empire, I'd destroyed my stomach lining at one business dinner after another.
Every time I drank, I ended up in the ICU.
After that, Noel never let me touch alcohol again.
But the man sitting in front of me now just blew out a lazy smoke ring, his expression as indifferent as if he were commenting on the weather.
"Brooklyn, it's one glass. Your tolerance isn't that bad."
I'd stopped expecting anything from him a long time ago. But my chest still clenched, tight and involuntary.
I picked up the glass and drank it down.
The burn seared a path from my throat to my stomach. A heavy weight dropped through my lower abdomen, and the pain sent me stumbling two steps sideways.
"Ms. Simmons holds her liquor so well. Why not finish the rest while you're at it?"
Florence pointed to the row of colorful drinks lined up on the table.
My expression went cold.
Florence turned to Noel, eyes brimming with hurt. "Noel, she called me a homewrecker. She threatened to kill my parents. After all that emotional damage, is it really too much to ask for this tiny bit of compensation?"
"Of course not." Noel pulled her closer and ground his cigarette into the ashtray, matter-of-fact. "Brooklyn, I'd like to help you, but you went too far. Do what Florence says. Once she's satisfied, you can make amends."
I nodded calmly.
Pressing one hand against my abdomen where the pain twisted like a knife, I reached for the decanter on the table. "A few glasses aren't enough to make amends. I'll finish the bottle."
When the bottle hit the floor, I couldn't hold it back anymore. Blood sprayed from my mouth, spattering the tiles. My legs gave out and I crumpled to the ground.
Florence recoiled several steps, wrinkling her nose. "Ms. Simmons, it was just one bottle. Did you really have to bring a blood pack?"
That was all it took to convince Noel. He pinched the bridge of his nose in irritation. "Enough. How long are you going to keep up this act? Florence has been more than generous. Stop embarrassing yourself and get up."
I didn't speak. I just lifted my head and looked at him.
The woman closest to me suddenly screamed.
"Blood. Her pants are soaked in blood. That's... she's having a miscarriage..."
I met Noel's eyes as every drop of color drained from his face. And for the first time all day, I smiled. A real one.
"Your child is hers now too. Is that enough?"
