Strange voices and annoyingly cheery music rang in her ears. She forced her sticky eyelids open to find herself watching a commercial for dog food. She’d slept with her mouth open, and slimy drool plastered her right cheek to the couch. At least her impromptu nap had lasted long enough for the room to stop spinning. She smacked her lips together. Her tongue tasted like she’d spent the last hour licking a dirty sock. Emilie rolled off the couch and stumbled into the bathroom. She stuck her mouth under the faucet and slurped as much of the liquid as she could. Otis sat on the toilet seat, his eyes narrowed in disapproval. “Clearly I can’t handle my liquor.” She had passed out seconds after Nathan deposited her in his car. He’d practically carried her to her condo, and then insisted she eat something. Emilie grumbled in protest, but sat obediently at the counter as Nathan sat a bag of food in front of her. “When did you get Subway?” she asked in confusion. “While you were passed out.
