Page 67 of Something Good
I swiped open the lock screen and got into my messages app.
SAMMY
How did it go today?
It’s done
I followed with a photo text of my half-empty beer.
Where are you?
No Place Lounge
I’ll be there in 20
By the time Sammy arrived,I was on my third beer and, thanks to eating very little today, had a nice buzz. I probably should have texted Sammy back and told him not to come, but ever since I’d left the courtroom today, a numb detachment had settled over me, and I figured if he wanted to drive out to No Place, I wasn’t going to stop him.
Someone approached, pulling out the stool beside me and taking a seat. I didn’t have to look to know it was Sammy.
“Hey, gold?—”
I slammed my empty glass down on the bar top. Perhaps I wasn’t as detached as I’d thought. “You lost the right to call me that a long time ago.”
“You’re right. I’m sorry,” he murmured. I didn’t offer a response, just continued to glare at the row of liquor bottles lining the counter across from me.
The bartender approached, taking Sammy’s order and inquiring about a refill on my beer. As he moved down the bar to complete our orders, Sammy studied me without comment.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“Nope.”
“Alright.”
The bartender returned with our drinks, and we sipped them in silence. Quite without my permission, a tear slipped down my cheek.
Then another.
And another.
And the next thing I knew, I was falling apart in Sammy’s arms.
38
WILL
Sammy paidour tab before we’d even finished our drinks and persuaded me to allow him to give me a ride home. Well, not so much persuaded as brow-beat me into it. It was going to suck figuring out how to get my truck from the bar so I could get to work in the morning, but as I stumbled up the steps to my front door, I supposed he’d been right to insist on driving me.
I stepped through the door, leaving it open for him to follow if he chose, and walked back into my kitchen to grab a glass of water. I had just enough sense left to remember I couldn’t afford to take another day off work, and future me would be grateful I’d had some water before going to bed tonight.
As I figured he would, Sammy followed me into the house, so I pulled out another glass and filled it for him, wordlessly setting it on the island between us.
“Tell me about your job.”
My eyes flashed to his in surprise. “You’re not going to ask about the divorce?”
“Do you want to talk about the divorce?”
“Not really.”
