*Olivia*

“Maybe you should slow down a bit,” Dahlia remarked timidly.

She stared at me with blatant worry on her face, watching as I paced back and forth on the patio with a bottle of some kind of alcohol in my hand.

“Fuck that,” I cursed, shutting my eyes tightly as I guzzled down whatever was in the bottle. Bourbon? Whiskey? Hell if I knew.

It had taken all of five seconds after leaving the sorry excuse of a sperm donor that was ...