Free Back to You by Faith Andrews

sense my agitation.
    I roll my neck on my shoulders with an audible crack. “Yeah, but… wanna head out of here?”
    Her eyes go wide and she actually stomps her foot. “No! I’m having fun! I’ve always wanted to do this. Aren’t you having a good time?”
    How can I tell her I’m not, especially since she’s obviously enjoying herself? From the looks of her glassy eyes and the grin on her face—Mia’s having a really good time. “Ha! You’re tipsy, aren’t you?” I ask, poking her in the stomach with my finger.
    “No,” she says with an ear to ear grin. “Okay, maybe a little,” she whispers, bringing her thumb and index finger an inch apart as measurement. “I didn’t eat anything before we left and that cheese they offered in the beginning smelled like feet. You know how much I hate cheesy feet.” She giggles, letting out a loud hiccup this time. Her hand flies over her mouth, trying to hide her embarrassment.
    “Wow! Mia Murphy, you are a lush!” I joke.
    “And… so what if I am?” she asks with her hands on her hips and an adorable, face-brightening smile.
    “I can’t take advantage of a drunk woman.”
    “A: I’m not drunk. And, B: you can if she gave you permission before she started drinking.”
    Who the fuck am I to argue with that ? “Perfect. Love it! Let’s find a way outta here.” I pull her by the hand, starting for the other direction.
    “No!” She protests. “We’re just getting to the good stuff. I want more wine.”
    “I think you’ve had enough for one day, don’t you?”
    “Barely. Come on, they’re moving again.”
    Her enthusiasm forces me to concede, half-willingly.
    We walk, arm-in-arm, following the rest of the herd. We stop at another section and get another lesson in grapes. Believe it or not, it’s not the tour that’s boring the life out of me. The tour guide is nice enough—she even has a sense of humor that’s brightened up the dullness of our crowd, but that damn Barbie is so irritating. I don’t even know what it is. She just rubs me the wrong way.
    And here she comes… great! I try to look interested in our surroundings by fingering one of the vines and making a concerned face, but she’s in between me and Mia before I can finagle an intelligent-sounding assessment of the fruit before me.
    “My gosh, how does one choose? I think I’m gonna have Daddy ship home a barrel of each!”
    I scrunch my nose in disgust—her voice is like nails on a damn chalkboard. But when she starts to speak again, I snap back to attention. That’s it! Now, I know why she looks familiar! Cheryl Hines from Curb Your Enthusiasm ! She’s a dead ringer… only Larry David would have cut her up in to little pieces—and even found a way out of it—if she were anything like this chick.
    “Hey, anyone ever tell you that you look like—” Before I can finish making my accusation, Big Daddy’s calling for his bride.
    “Samantha! Come back here, baby. Why do you keep running off?”
    Mia’s face turns white and tears pool in her eyes. Her hands drop to her side, balling into tight-knuckled fists. I can’t help but see the hurt radiating off her—she’s paralyzed by it, unable to move or speak. I want to reach out to her and erase whatever it is she’s feeling, but I can’t imagine what the hell’s got her so worked up. Did I do something? Did I say something? And then it hits me—of all the fucking names in the world this irritating bimbo has to have the same name as the woman who nearly cost me my marriage? “Oh shit!” I groan, rushing to Mia’s side.
    She shoves me away, already stalking off.
    “Mia! Wait! Stop!” I never imagined something like this would trigger her. It has to be the alcohol, the heat—I don’t fucking know! Why does that bimbo’s name have to be Samantha?
     

     
    Why does her name have to be Samantha?
    I’ve been fine—content even—just going about my business, following Declan’s vacation rules and then, BAM! Instant