Chapter 7

The summer night breeze carried the sharp scent of alcohol.

Evelyn noticed Alexander's flushed ears and realized he'd had too much to drink. The decanter he always carried was nowhere to be seen—its supply of water must have run out long ago.

"Alex, one more round!"

"Yeah, we're not leaving until you're wasted!"

A group of drunken men crowded around Alexander, shoving glasses into his hands. Annabelle stood nearby, her pregnant belly prominent, weakly protesting, "Stop drinking," but her voice was lost in the noise.

Evelyn stood. "I'll check on him."

Richard gave her a knowing look but said nothing.

As she approached, she saw Alexander being forced to accept a glass of liquor. His brow furrowed, but he took it anyway.

"Enough." Evelyn snatched the glass from his hand.

"Hey, who's this?" A drunk squinted at her. "Since when do waitresses tell Alex what to do?"

The man reached for her arm. Alexander suddenly blocked him, pulling Evelyn behind him.

"Don't touch her."

"Alex, these gold-diggers are all the same—"

"She's my wife."

The air turned icy. The drunk sobered instantly, his gaze darting between Evelyn and Annabelle.

"But... Annabelle—"

All eyes shifted to Annabelle, standing in the corner. She clutched Alexander's jacket tightly, forcing a smile. "We're just friends."

The smile looked more like a grimace.

Alexander's gaze cleared slightly. "That's enough for tonight. Evelyn, let's go home."

Annabelle stepped forward. "I'll come too."

Evelyn held out her hand. "Give me the jacket."

"No need." Annabelle hugged it closer. "I've got it."

The three left the room in tense silence, leaving the guests bewildered.

"What just happened?"

Richard downed his drink, watching Annabelle leave. "If she knew this would happen, why did she start it?"

The night breeze was chilly. Evelyn shivered, drawing warmth from Alexander's body.

"Call a driver," Alexander said.

Annabelle immediately pulled out her phone.

"I'll drive," Evelyn said.

Alexander blinked in surprise. "You can drive?"

"I can. Just never had the chance." For three years, no matter how late, he had always been the one to drive her.

"Where are the keys?"

"In my pocket."

Annabelle rifled through the jacket. "They're not here."

Alexander leaned heavily on Evelyn, his words slurring. "Pants pocket."

"I'll get them!" Annabelle moved forward, reaching for his waistband.

Evelyn blocked her. "Miss Taylor, that's hardly appropriate."