“I’m sure you’ll manage. You’re all excellent at pretending to be someone’s friend.” I grabbed my fresh mimosa, spilling some over the side of the glass. Then I tipped it up and slammed it.

When the glass was empty, I set it on the marble bar with a clank and tossed my hair. “And now, if you’ll excuse me, there’s something I have to do.”

Not one of them stopped me as I made my way through the country club dining room, but they followed behind like a pack of hounds. I stumbled once, catching myself on the back of someone’s chair, but eventually made it to Brett’s table, where I grabbed a silver pitcher full of ice water.

“Ice queen, huh? I’ll give you ice queen.” Then I dumped the entire thing in his lap.

“Sylvia, what the hell?” Brett jumped up and tons of little cubes fell to the floor, but the crotch of his pants was soaked. “Have you lost your mind?”

“No, actually. I think I just found it.” My adrenaline was pumping—I felt like I could do anything at that moment. “I must have been crazy to think you’d be faithful to me, or to keep the promises you made. You’re nothing but a liar and a cheat.” God, it felt glorious to say the words right to his face! Next, I looked at Kimmy. “And you’re an idiot to think he’s going to be any different with you, but that’s your problem.”

“Enough,” Brett snapped, straightening his tie and glancing around the room. People were staring.

“Actually, I’m just getting started.” Fueled by mimosa and the fury of a woman scorned, I charged for the dance floor at the front of the room, where Santa was standing in front of a red velvet throne and speaking into a microphone. A line of children wound toward the door, eager to sit on his lap, and two teenagers dressed as elves were doing their best to keep the impatient kids under control.

“Ho, ho, ho,” Santa bellowed, brandishing an old-fashioned scroll. “Let’s see who’s on the Nice List this year—and who’s on the Naughty!”

I marched up to him and grabbed the mic from his hand. “Let me help you with that, Santa.”

The bewildered old man just blinked at me.

Turning toward the crowd, I brought it to my lips. “Excuse me, ladies and gentlemen. I’ve got something to say.”

The room hushed. Expressions ranged from curious to concerned to shocked—I was generally a quiet, dignified sort of person. Not at all the type of woman to commandeer Santa’s mic and lecture a room full of people just trying to enjoy their Bloody Marys and quiche.