feeling the effects of the alcohol. “Marital advice is not exactly my department.”
Zoe batted her words away. “Don’t be a killjoy, Liv. You know what I mean. Give her your best sisterly advice.”
Run! Run for your life. Get out now while you can still save yourself.
She chuckled at the thought. It was what she wanted to say, but even as tipsy as she was, she had enough good sense to know the reaction that comment would inspire in her sisters. Then she really would be the killjoy that Zoe had accused her of being. That wouldn’t do. She’d have to dig deep to come up with something.
Of course, Zoe and Rachel and their husbands could be the poster couples for happy marriage. “You two go first. Come back to me.”
As Rachel and Zoe spouted pearls of matrimonial wisdom, Olivia searched her soul to find something to offer—anything—that didn’t sound jaded or bitter. But her head was spinning. Either she was a lightweight or these Fuzzy Handcuffs really did pack an über-potent punch.
That’s when she realized three sets of sisterly eyes were focused on her, waiting expectantly.
“Guys, come on.” Was she slurring her words? Nah, she was just thirsty. Water, she needed water. She looked over and signaled for Mike to come over. He gave her a thumbs-up, which Olivia took to mean he would be there as soon as he was free. He had a couple of customers at the bar, including Alejandro Mendoza. God, he was one sexy Texan—no, wait, he was from Miami. With a vineyard in Texas. So he was sort of an honorary Texy sexan...uhh, a sexy Texan. Whatever. He certainly was the best of both worlds: a head for business and a body for sin.
A body she really wouldn’t mind taking for a test drive, she thought as she watched him sitting at the bar sipping his beer and doing something on his phone.
“Olivia!” Zoe demanded. “Earth to Olivia. We’re waiting for you.”
“Come on, Zo. You know I’m the worst person to ask about this. I don’t believe in love.”
She tried to wave them away, but realized that gesture probably looked as sloppy as she felt right now.
“How can you not believe in love?” Sophie pressed. Her voice went up an octave at the end of the sentence. “Everyone believes in love. I mean, what kind of a world would this be if people didn’t believe in love?”
Rachel, who was still holding her first drink, shot Olivia a look. “You might want to slow down a bit, too. You’re starting to be a bit of a buzzkill, Liv.”
Oh, first she was a killjoy. Now she was a buzzkill?
“You want a buzzkill? I’ll give you a buzzkill. I’m happy for the three of you, that you think you’ve found your soul mates. How fabulous for you. But just because it works for you, doesn’t mean love and marriage are for me.”
“It’s because you’re too guarded,” Zoe said. “Of course you’re not going to find love with that attitude. You have to open your heart before love can find you.”
Rachel and Sophie nodded earnestly.
Olivia snorted. “Please tell me you’re not going to start singing ‘Kumbaya’ in three-part harmony.”
She rolled her eyes and when she did, she saw Alejandro looking in her direction. She looked away fast.
“I just don’t understand why you feel that way,” Sophie said in a small voice.
Olivia should’ve left it alone. She should’ve just made up something that sounded warm and fuzzy. Grabbed the first thing off the top of her head, something about love being the merging of two souls and blah, blah, blah, and tossed it at her sisters.
But they kept pressing her about why.
Why? Why? Why?
“You want to know why I don’t believe in love? I’ll tell you. Love is a crock. Every single guy I’ve dated has had some ulterior motive for dating me. They’ve wanted money or wanted a job or thought our father could make them rich by buying the app they’ve designed. They didn’t want me as much as they wanted a piece of Robinson Enterprises.”
“Sounds like you’ve been dating the wrong guys,” Rachel said.
It was probably true, but there was something in Rachel’s tone that sounded so judgmental. It was the last straw.
“And that’s only half of it.” Olivia leaned in and set her empty glass on the cocktail table. “The other reason is our parents. Their marriage is a mess. It’s a phony sham of a relationship. I don’t know why they stay together, because they hate each other. They are slowly but steadily eating each other alive. Anyone with good sense would take a clue from them and realize all relationships are doomed.”
“But they’re still together,” Sophie said.
Olivia shrugged. “Why are they still together? They don’t love each other. Even if they did, what about the general state of society? Fifty percent of all marriages end in divorce and the other fifty percent—like our parents—make each other so miserable that divorce probably seems like a preferable option. And that’s why I can see no reason to yearn for a doomed institution. On that note, why don’t we go get something to eat?”
Her sisters sat stock still, silently staring at her. Rachel looked irritated. Zoe looked shell-shocked and Sophie looked like she was about to burst into tears.
Uh-oh. Obviously she’d gone too far.
“Look, you asked.” She softened her tone. “That’s why I didn’t want to get into it.”
All three were still frozen in their seats. The only thing that moved was the tears meandering down Sophie’s cheeks.
Crap.
“Okay. I’m sorry. I understand that y’all are newlyweds—even you, Rach. So your relationships are still shiny and new—”
Now Sophie was shaking her head.
Sometimes it was as if she was the only one in her family who didn’t have their head in the clouds. Maybe being the one with a clear head and common sense was her burden. If so, she could deal with it more easily than she could deal with a broken heart. She was a realist when it came to love—it never lasted. Her parents were living proof. Why should she fool herself into believing it would turn out otherwise for herself? Nope. She would save herself the heartache and focus on her career, which was in her control.
“I’m really sorry,” Olivia said. “I didn’t mean it the way it came out.”
“Yes, you did.” Sophie’s voice broke and she stood up abruptly. “I’m tired and I want to go to bed.”
“No, Soph. Come on. We need to get something to eat. I’ve made us a reservation at the Driskill Grill. I’m sure they can seat us early. Come on—”
“No.” Sophie took off.
Her sister had barely cleared the bar when Zoe said, “I’ll go check on her.”
“I’ll come with you,” Olivia offered.
“No,” Zoe and Rachel said in unison.
“Stay here,” Zoe said.
“Bring her back,” Olivia said. “It’s Saturday night. It’s her bachelorette party. We’re supposed to have dinner. And then right after dinner, we’re supposed to have fun.”
“And clearly not a minute sooner,” Rachel said under her breath, but Olivia heard her loud and clear.
“That wasn’t very nice,” she said.
Rachel shrugged. “Look, Olivia, I know you mean well, but why did you do that?”
“What?”
“Your down-with-marriage campaign was harsh. Even you have to admit it wasn’t your best moment.”
She