“Who are you? One of my students’ age too?”
I ran my sweaty palms over my black pants. Of course, the blonde looked great in a low-cut tank and cutoff jean shorts. I was dressed for work—like the old maid I was.
“Don’t look at yourself like that. I see what you’re doing, and I’m going to remind you how the bartender’s been drooling over you. Men like a woman in a power suit.”
“This is like the millionth time I’ve had to tell you to shut it tonight.”
“Come on, we’re walking out.”
She took my arm and pulled me off the stool. If she hadn’t snagged it first, I would’ve forgotten my bag.
Mary stopped by their two-top. “Aiken, hi! Fancy seeing you here.” She was going straight to hell for her acting job.
“Hey, Mary.” He gave her a chin nod. “Claire.” He stood and gathered me close, his arm bringing me in tight against his waist.
It was taking everything in me to stay upright. Four wines, and I was shocked I was standing. Leaning into him was about the last thing I wanted to do, but I did.
“Love the new logo.” I flung my hand toward the bar.
“It does look good.”
“He designed it,” Mary explained to the blonde. “I’m Mary, by the way. This is Claire.” She pointed at me. “And you are?”
“You’re Professor Richards, right?”
I was either too drunk or not drunk enough for what was about to come. I couldn’t decide.
“That’s me,” I said, Aiken’s hand still firmly planted behind my back.
“I’m Allison, Abbie’s friend. She’s in your class or something, talks about you all the time. She showed me your bio on the Internet, said she wants to be like you someday. God, this is sounding a bit stalkerish.” She played with the tips of her hair. “She…Abbie…wants to be just like you, your job…you get what I mean?”
“Abbie?” I said.
“Right. Abbie.”
“Abbie with an ie,” Aiken whispered into my hair. At least, I thought that was what he said.
My brain was fuzzy, struggling to make sense of how this young woman knew me and wondering why Aiken was meeting with her and where Abbie fit into all of it. It was a labyrinth I couldn’t quite make it through.
“Allison has some information about my mom.”
“Oh yeah? She does? How did you two meet?” The questions flew out of my mouth in some sort of verbal diarrhea.
“I’m from one town over, and my dad, I guess he knew Aiken’s mom a bit. When I met—”
“What she means is she connected the dots around the time I started searching. Allison found me…on Facebook…to tell me a few memories of my mom. Not many.”
Aiken and Allison were answering my questions, but their answers didn’t stack up. Either that, or the alcohol was going to my brain. I could’ve sworn Allison’s brow furrowed, but by that point, my brain was mush. My heart was pounding to the pulse of the heavy metal blaring in the background, or it could’ve been their bullshit radiating through me.
I didn’t know for shit.
“Oh, that’s nice,” was all I responded.
“Nice is meeting you here.” His fingers tightened on my back. “Listen, Allison, do you mind if I take Claire home? We’ll chat soon.”
All of a sudden, I remembered Mary was there.
“I have to wait for Mary to grab an Uber. She lives far out. Not like me.”
Her head was bobbing as she looked from one of us to the other, taking in the strange interaction. No doubt, I’d hear about it and her theories tomorrow morning.
“Cool,” Allison said and stood on her tiptoes to give Aiken a hug. He barely took his one arm away from me, which was a good sign…but really? Was she hugging my guy?
And was I really upset?
How old was I? Twenty-one?
No. Most certainly not.
