Page 73 of This Woman Forever

“On a Friday night?”

“Why don’t you know this?”

My head swells, the pressure getting too much. She’s out on the town? Drinking? Flirting? I’m killing time, annihilating myself over and over, and she’s gone out drinking? What is she doing, celebrating being single again? I pull my hands off the wheel and stare at them shaking.

“Ward?” Jay says, definitely wary.

“I’m on my way.”

“Hey, listen, I don’t want any trouble.”

“No trouble,” I assure him. Only anarchy. I drop the call and it immediately rings again.

“What did Jay want?” Sam asks.

“Ava’s out.”

Silence.

“I’m going to the bar.”

“No, Jesse. No, no, no.”

“Yes, yes, yes.”

“Fuck it!” There’s a few bangs and crashes. “Wait for me outside,” he demands. “Do you hear me? Do not go into that bar without me.”

I snort, hang up, and put my foot down.

Jay looks like he’s one domestic argument away from quitting. His big body fills the doorway, his arms crossed over his chest, his eyes warning me as I approach. I know I’m not getting in this bar unless I can demonstrate complete composure, so I drag a smile from somewhere deep. I’m certain it’s got a psychotic edge. She doesn’t care. I laugh under my breath. We’ll see.

I reject yet another of Sam’s crisis calls and slip my phone into my back pocket. “Evening,” I say calmly.

“Evening,” he replies, just as calmly.

“Good night?”

“Quiet,” he says. “And by quiet, I mean there’s been no trouble.” His eyebrows lift. “Just how I like it.”

“Long may it continue.” Still calm. I haven’t a clue how I’m managing it.

“Don’t make me wrestle you out of here, Ward.”

“No drama,” I muse, laughing at my nerve. I can’t promise Jay that at all. I feel volatile. Unhinged. I pass him and stop just shy of the next door that’ll take me into the bar, breathing in some air and calm. The plan is simple.

Find out if she cares.

I feel someone brush past me, and I look to my right when a lady’s voice apologizes. Her eyes light up. It’s not an opportunity I’ll pass up, so I dig deep and unearth the smile that has always sent women weak at the knees, blasting her back with it. “No problem.” I look her up and down briefly, taking in the red dress, just enough for her to read into it. Her friends stop chatting behind her. It’s been a while since I’ve silenced a crowd of women with my smile. Or noticed that I have.

Casting my eyes across the group, I watch as each and every one of the women—all younger than me, I must add—breathe in their awe. I feel for my wedding ring with my thumb, spinning it, like a subliminal apology to my wife for what’s about to go down.

If she cares.

“Have a good night,” I say, walking backward slowly, giving them all a bit longer to take me in, before I turn and stride toward the bar.

I feel Ava before I see her, the left side of my body burning from her stare. Yes, here I am, baby. I briefly flick my gaze her way, seeing her at the bar with her friends. Looking perfect. Her dress on the ridiculous side of short. A glass of wine in her hand.

So she’s not only making the most of being single, she’s making the most of not being pregnant. It’s a double kick in the gut.

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