DAMIAN’S POV
Cindy didn’t say a word at first.
Instead, she tilted her head back and chugged the rest of her champagne like it was cheap whiskey, her throat working as she swallowed, like she was bracing herself for another gut punch.
Her lips twisted into a grimace, nose scrunching as if she’d tasted straight-up misery.
“Damn, this tastes like regrets and bad decisions,” she muttered, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, her voice rough but laced with a spark of her usual fire.
I let out a low chuckle, swirling my glass before taking a sip, the bubbles sharp and cold on my tongue.
“That’s why you sip it, sweetheart. Don’t go chugging like a frat boy.”
She shot me a look, half-glare, half-playful, her cheeks flushed from the booze.
The alcohol was already loosening her up,
