The air in the dining room is thick with the smell of alcohol. A large ice bucket filled with several bottles of wine sits on the table. Some of the bottles have already been opened. Lance leans back in a chair, swigging directly from one of the bottles.
Andrew frowns. She crosses the room and snatches the bottle from Lance. He’s reluctant to let go and some of the wine spills on her arm.“It’s too early in the morning for that,” she scolds.
Lance glances at her, and his eyes are so bloodshot they look crimson.
“Who do you think you are?” he slurs.
Andrea doesn’t know how to answer that. She wants to say she’s his wife, but she can’t—they’ve already signed the divorce papers. Even though the divorce won’t be official for six months, she’s leaving today. In a few hours, they’ll be marri
