Billionaire's Single Mom

I reconsidered my slapping plan. “Are you serious now? You’re the cheater, Lionel. Not me.”

“I can’t help it if you couldn’t give me what I needed.” He shrugged. “Maybe you should have just accepted it.”

“Shut your mouth, Lionel Blue. Or I’ll shut it for you.”

Lionel snorted, his taunting smirk returnin

g. “Oh, no, Emily don’t be like that. We wouldn’t want to make a scene at your mama’s party, now would we? Oh, think of the scandal. Think of everything the ladies would whisper about her behind her back. And you, too.”

I gritted my teeth. Plenty of people already whispered about my bastard cheating ex-husband. I didn’t care about them talking about me, but I didn’t want to risk anything that might hurt Mama. Of course, Lionel knew that. He knew how and when to push me and get away with it. Calling him a snake was an insult to snakes.

“Just stay away from me, Lionel, and I’ll stay away from you. Deal?” I said.

“Fair enough.” He gave me a little salute. “You know what’s really pathetic?”

“Do you have to keep talking? Go away.”

He sneered and turned around, heading toward the door. “I’ve moved on, Emily. Maybe you should, too.”

“I divorced you. I did move on.”

Lionel chuckled and headed inside.

I groaned. This was going to be a long night.

* * *

Ten minutes later, I was at the open bar set up in the living room. It’d never been hard for me to get drunk on champagne, so that was my brilliant plan. I’d get a little tipsy. It was Mama’s house after all. If Juniper and I needed to stay the night, it wouldn’t be a problem.

I thanked the bartender as I gulped down half of my first glass. Then I saw Lionel and Juniper. Some blonde barely out of high school in a dress with her boobs spilling out was making cutesy faces at my daughter. Juniper laughed, and I gritted my teeth. How dare Lionel expose my daughter to his floozy of the month, especially one who was closer in age to Juniper than him.

My stomach twisted. I downed the rest of my glass of champagne.

“I’ll have another, please.”

The bartender nodded with a polite smile. It was a socialite party. I doubted he wasn’t already used to angry women trying to drink their problems away. Even if he was, I didn’t care.

I drained the glass in record time. Cloudiness had already set in from my first glass. In a few minutes, this second glass would move me from pleasantly buzzed to delightfully drunk.

“One more, please.”

The bartender smirked at me, and I almost said something but stopped myself. It wasn’t his fault my ex-husband was a bastard.

“You might as well pour a few more,” I said. “It’s going to be a long night.”

* * *

A half-hour later, I’d lost track of how many drinks I’d had. I’d gone way past delightfully drunk to wonderfully wasted. I didn’t normally like to drink so much, but my ex-husband’s appearance at the party with the woman on his arm had struck me to my core. But I wasn’t gone enough to not have some sense of self-preservation. I wandered the party now, sticking close to the walls and avoiding talking to anyone.

I could fake being sober when I walked, but I doubt I could convince anyone if I opened my mouth. At this point, I was probably sweating champagne.

Maybe, just maybe, if I hadn’t replaced most of my blood with champagne, I would have been smart enough to find a bedroom and collapse and sleep it off. Instead, I decided I needed to find some trouble. Bless my heart.

I wasn’t even sure what sort of trouble I was looking for. Just the idea of letting go completely really seemed good then.

I’d slipped into Mama’s huge dining room where a dozen people chatted away, drinks in hand.

A waiter held a tray of champagne. I thought about grabbing yet another glass, but someone else caught my eye. Logan Hawkins.