It was a bar just like this one that I met Ree in. I still think of that dark rainy night. What a miraculous coincidence it was that we were there together—two lost souls intersecting at just the right time in one another’s lives. How horrific it would have been if either of us didn’t show up. But a part of me holds a romantic ideal that we would have met anyway, at a bus stop, simply walking down the street, in line for a movie. That the universe had no choice but to arrange for it. I’m not a big believer in destinies, especially not after the shit parade my life with Simone had become. But with Ree, I could practically hear destiny calling. When I least expected it, I looked up, and there she was.
I turn my head to the left as a wistful nod to fate and shudder when I see an all too familiar blonde.
“Astrid?”
Her pale face breaks into a giant mischievous grin, and I can feel the acid percolating in my stomach.
“Well, hello, sexy.” She shakes her chest half-heartedly as she plops in the seat next to me. She lifts a finger at the bartender. “Long Island Iced Tea.” Those glowing eyes revert back to mine. “What brings you down to this shithole? Drinking your troubles away so soon after moving to Percy?” Her shoulder brushes against mine, and my stomach sours. Astrid has been to my office on three different occasions now, all bullshit excuses to arrange for my fingers to probe around in her mouth.
The secretary confirmed she requests me personally. She even offered up a mocking laugh when she implied Astrid had something akin to a schoolgirl crush. But here we are in a bar, together. And God knows something like this can be misconstrued to mean something different. Small towns are known to talk, and I’m not in the mood for something different. I may have behaved one way with Simone, but with her I was both worn down and stupid at the same time. A toxic combination if ever there was one. But with Ree, I am straight as an arrow, not because I feel compelled by fear, but because I love my wife. She is the only woman I want to be with for the rest of my life. The only woman my heart can see. And how I wish my eyes weren’t seeing the one before me. Ree is it for me. My love story ends with her.
And the dark and bleak truth is that I wish Ree were my wife from the beginning, not Simone, never Simone. I wish that Isla and Henry were ours right along with Lilly and Jack. A horrible part of me wishes I could blip Simone out of the radar of my life as far back as that day we met. Another part of me is convinced that Isla and Henry would be here if Ree were in charge. I’m not sure why I never placed the blame on the sitter. Logic would deem so, but Simone was at the water that day with them, absorbed in her damned laptop. Ree would have saved it for later and had fun with the kids. She knows how fleeting childhood can be. She just so happened to have missed her own.
“I’m meeting up with a friend.” I’m not sure why I went with the lie. But something tells me once she finds out I have a brother, it will put Mace squarely on her very married radar.
Her tongue rims her lips as she rocks her body, bumping into me every other second. “What kind of friend?” Her shoe runs along my leg, a cheesy move if ever there was one.
“Just an old buddy. It’s nothing more than a friendly hello.” I pull my beer forward. “Just like this.”
Her affect falters, from lust to anger, zero to sixty. “Hon, you and I both know I’d like to be much more than friends.” Her teeth graze her bottom lip. Her skin is sagging around her eyes, her makeup encrusted along the edges. “Consider it an open invite anytime you’re up for trying something new.”
I swallow hard, uncertain what to do with this sober invite. It’s frightening and makes me wonder how this will be used against me. In my world, that’s how this kind of a thing works. Every disaster, real and imagined, has always fallen squarely over my shoulders.
A warm laugh rattles in my chest. “I’m quite all right. Your husband seems nice. Good man.” I point over at her as I suck down as much of my beer as I can. The quicker I can dilute reality, the better.
“He’s all right. If you’re up for that kind of thing.” Her finger traces over my thigh in the shape of an S and I snatch up her hand before she hits pay dirt. She glowers at me a moment before taking her wrist back. “An eviction notice has been circling my brain as far as he’s concerned. I’m not there anymore. Not present in the marriage. There’s just something missing. The man hardly makes me feel alive.” Her eyes widen as she leans in far too close. “It takes a special man to make me feel alive, Bram. A gorgeous man like yourself with fire in his eyes, a zest for life. You make me feel emotions that I never thought possible. In fact, you have managed to garner the attention of every woman in Percy the second you showed up in town. How is that, Bram? What kind of a spell did you cast on the women of this town to make that happen?” Her fingers dig into the back of my hair, and I back up just enough until she surrenders her position.
“Fine.” She holds her palm out at me. “Have it your way, but know this. I’ve seen that wifey of yours, met her, spoke with her in depth. She won’t keep you settled for long. A man like you needs someone vivacious, someone who’s up for anything, and I’m guessing she’s not.” She gulps down her drink in record time and slams the glass onto the table. “Enjoy your missionary position life. And enjoy that beer. I suddenly realize why you need it so badly.” She takes off, and her perfume lingers in the vacuum of her wake. I can feel it fashioning a rose-scented noose and circling my neck. Astrid is trouble. If I’m not careful, she will most certainly and enthusiastically come back to bite me in the ass.
Mason shows up as if on cue and slaps me over the back as he takes her seat.
“Making friends?” he teases.
“You and I both know I’m only capable of making enemies.” And there are no truer words than that.
“You look like shit.” He sheds a quick grin. Mace and I have always been cautious regarding our happiness. After our father took off for greener marital pastures, it seemed he took the familial horseshoe with him. Neither Mace nor I have ever been able to catch a break. He’s up a divorce on me, but I’m up one dead wife.
“I was about to say the same about you. Thanks for coming out.”
Mace nods to the bartender, and two fresh beers land before us. I suck the foam off of mine before indulging in a few hearty gulps.
“Homicide detective down in Hennessy wants to speak with me.”
The whites of his eyes shoot my way. My brother has always been my older lookalike, save for his salt and pepper hair. The salt is winning. He blames me, of course, all that worrying about his baby brother. I always said my hair never bothered to turn because I was too damn afraid to worry.
I blow out a slow breath. “It’s about Loretta.”
His brows bounce. “She’s dead.” He offers an odd congratulatory nod as if everyone associated with me were somehow required to die. Some demonic feat that needed to be met. “But I already knew that.” His expression sours again. “In fact, I’m one step ahead of you.” He pulls up a picture on his phone and shoves it my way.
“Oh God,” it’s all I can muster. There I am in black and white, my hands on her shoulders, her face filled with fear. Her beautiful face.
“Yes, oh God,” he parrots without the right emotion behind it. “You are fucked, my friend. What the hell were you thinking?”
“How did you get that?” I take a moment to marvel at my brother’s stealth detective skills. In all honesty, when he set out to be a caped-crusader, I didn’t have all that much faith in him. Low self-worth has always been the great Woodley curse, and I never thought to contest it.
“Never mind how I got it. Did you kill this woman?” he hisses it out low enough, but the hair on the back of my neck curls nonetheless. This woman. I metthatwoman in a bar much like this one, but in Manhattan during one of the many city runs I made to escape a marriage that was wearing me down. I thought she was a friendly girl, pretty, and one thing led to a hotel room. Turns out, she liked to meet men in bars for fun and for a little cash on the side. She never charged me, which, of course, fed my ridiculous ego.
“No. I did not.” I lean in, pissed as hell. “Do not breathe those words to me ever again. I was at—”
