Un-Tying the Knot {h.s.}

Chapter 37

"Here ya go, Livvy," Nick offers, handing me a tumbler.

Harry was so lost in his thoughts, completely wrapped up in seeing me in a wedding dress, that he didn't even notice his best friend pour the drink in my glass.

"Is this...?"

"Yup!" Nick grins wide, tossing his back quickly, licking his lips as he slams the tumbler down on the minibar. "Take it like a man!"

I narrow my eyes at him, lightly sniffing at the bourbon before swirling it around warily in my glass. My eyes lock with Harry's before my lips touch the edge, hesitantly tipping it back with a grimace.

The liquor burns it way down my throat, forcing me to hiss a little before coughing. My hand reaches up, lightly caressing the skin of my neck as if it would somehow ease the burning in my esophagus. It didn't.

I didn't notice Harry staring at me, but his eyes were affixed on my hands, picking up for the first time just how narrow and slender my neck was, how tiny my hands were...how ringless my finger was.

"Olivia? Is that you?" Eleanor calls, the smart tapping of her heels beginning to echo against the hard wood downstairs.

"Shit!" Harry exclaims, eyes reluctantly leaving me before bolting around chairs and settés in a hurry, trying desperately to get back to his bedroom as quickly as possible.

"Where you headed, H?" Nick laughs, amusement on his face, ignoring my silent protests as he pours more bourbon in my glass.

"I have to change!!"

Nick shakes his head, finishing topping off his own glass before sipping it, the leaves of his ivy crown rustling a bit in his hair. I couldn't help but giggle at him. He's so funny to me.

"Yes it's me, Eleanor!" I yell, recalling my attention back to her.

"Good, at least someone is on time," she huffs, her heels moving to the stairs.

"You'd better drink that before she gets up here," Nick warns quietly, nudging me with his elbow. I jump instinctively and look down at the glass in my hand, not remembering he poured it in the first place.

"Crap!" I mutter.

I look around helplessly, but there's no where to put it that isn't obvious. I look up at Nick with a playful scowl before tipping it back, letting the liquor build a solid buzz in my bloodstream. The room goes hazy, the fire in my throat slowly settling into my chest as I set the empty glass down on the piano. I take one more grimace, swallowing hard, before Eleanor crests the stairs.

Nick lets out a low whistle.

"Fuck, Eleanor. Think that dress could get any shorter?" His words are snide, and I can't help but turn around. I gasp when I see her.

Eleanor is not wearing the pretty white Oscar de la Renta dress I had picked up to dry clean, only to alter, only to dry clean again. Instead, she's wearing a little black satin number that fell only inches away from her crotch, her long sleeves hanging low in large bows off of her shoulders delicately. The tan expanse of her long legs climb up from her six inch Louboutin pumps, rocketing her already tall frame into the stratosphere. I feel slightly scandalous on her behalf, since she looks like a high class hooker, but as I look down and see half of my torso bare, I realize I'm not really one to talk. I nervously pull my arms over my chest, suddenly feeling very exposed.

Eleanor looks at Nick disapprovingly. "Are you still wearing that hideous outfit?"

Nick just grins. "Yeah!! I'm here for the party Harry promised!" He does a little playful jig for her just to annoy her. "When does the keg get here?"