Page 108 of The Moment You Know

“You said you’d explain everything when we were done, so, now that we’re done … what’s the story?” Evan asked.

David told him what had happened with his phone and emails.

“I’m kind of shocked,” Evan said, looking thoughtful.

“That she did all that?”

“No, that you kicked her to the curb for it.”

“I know I said what I had with her was fine,” David said. “But living without love is one thing. Living without trust is another.”

Evan tilted his head. “I’m sorry, man. Not that it ended,” he quickly added, “but I’m sorry how it ended.”

“I am, too. That part really sucked.”

“I can’t wait to tell Evelyn. She’s going to be thrilled. Again, not because of how it ended but because it did.”

Evan held up his glass and David did the same.

When Evan didn’t say anything right away, David asked, “Are we toasting to something, or not?”

Evan blinked owlishly. “Shit. I’m so tired, I don’t think I can come up with anything.”

“Then why did you raise your glass?”

“Habit.”

David laughed and tapped his glass to Evan’s. “To you. For helping me move. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. What can I say? I’m a good friend.”

“That you are, Dick. That you are.”

Chapter 42

Five years ago

A few hours after David signed his divorce papers, he found himself outside a bar called Three Amigos. He probably should be somewhere eating dinner, but finding a restaurant was too much trouble at that moment in time. He’d gotten calls from his mom, along with Miles, Alex, and Nate, but didn’t want to talk to any of them—especially not his mom, who loved Paige deeply.

Don’t think about Paige. Don’t think about Paige.

Pushing open the front door, David went inside, surprised to find a clean, nice establishment that didn’t smell like spilled beer or dirty socks. For a moment, he thought about taking one of the booths along the walls where he could hide but he changed his mind and headed for the bar, instead. He wound his way through high-top tables with leather padded chairs, only a few of which were occupied at the relatively early hour, and dodged a waitress who smiled at him.

At the long, wooden bar, he slid onto a stool at the far end and within a minute the lone bartender was standing in front of him. He was tall, with wavy, reddish-brown hair and dark brown eyes, wearing a red T-shirt with ‘Three Amigos’ silk-screened across the front in black letters.

“Didn’t this place used to be called Malone’s, or something like that?” David asked.

“It did,” the bartender said. “It used to be my old man’s, but when he died last year, my brother, sister, and I changed the name when we became the new owners. Re-branding is the big thing nowadays. And I just totally sounded like my old man by using the word ‘nowadays’.”

For a moment, the bartender looked utterly appalled, but then he shook it off. “What about you? When do you sound like your old man?”

The question took David by surprise, and he answered honestly, before he could engage his filter. “I don’t know if I ever do. He left before I was born.”

“Really? What an implacable asshole,” the bartender said with a frown, crossing his arms over his chest. “Although, at the risk of sounding like an implacable asshole myself, let me say that a man who bails on his kid like that isn’t necessarily a man you want around, anyway. All in all, he probably did you a favor, know what I mean?”

“That’s one way to spin it,” David mused and then tilted his head. “Implacable?”

“It’s from my Word-of-the-Day app. It was actually yesterday’s word, but I wasn’t able to use it then. And today’s word doesn’t look good for today, either.”

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