Brittany's POV

It was almost dark. I wrapped my hands around the glass of whiskey, the yellow drink shining in the light. The drink hurt my throat as I drank it down, but I liked the feeling. It was better to feel this than to think about him again. Him—and her.

George.

And Wendy.

I frowned, my fingers gripped the glass tightly as my heart pounded in my ears. That weak and timid woman had won George's heart years ago, and even when she left, she still had a hold on him. Nothing I did could change that. Not even my best efforts or my charm and ambition.

That woman...