I wrinkled my nose at the dusty old bottle with its weathered, torn seal and peeling, faded label. Anything that came out of there surely had to taste like skunk water or worse. “Shouldn’t we wait for the wedding?”
“Nope. Girlfriends count, especially on the holidays.”
Gemma and Marcie nodded in unison.
“We’ve both been through it and lived to tell the tale. You’ll survive,” Marcie said.
Will handed me a shot glass of the amber liquid. I sniffed it gingerly. The ethanolic fumes took my breath away.
“Well, I haven’t been responsible with anything else I’ve said tonight, so I’m certainly not going to worry after this.” I held my glass up to Lila, who grimaced in solidarity.
“Ready?”
She nodded.
I threw back my head and opened my mouth, letting the liquid warm my tongue, my throat, an
