He nodded. “Why do you feel like you have to talk yourself into staying withSheri?”
“No reason,” Isaid.
Maybe I was saying too much. I think I was drunk. I pushed the glass of whiskey away.Work would be hell tomorrow if I had a hangover. I looked down at my phone. It was a few minutes past nine. Plenty of time to sleep itoff.
“Callie?” he asked. “Callie’s thedifference.”
How the hell did heguess?
The words stumbled out of my mouth in a rush. "I like her. I like her too much, and we set ourselves up like a perfect family, and fuck it if I don't want it. So yeah, I have to focus on my wife, because I don't want to hurt Callie. And she's not for it, you know? She's this fortress. She doesn’t wantme.”
“You spoke with her about this?” he askeddryly.
"No. No. Callie just doesn't want to put herself in a relationship where she's vulnerable. And here I am, married to a drug addict, two kids, and a shitty job. She doesn't need myheadaches.”
"Well," he said, gulping back the last remains of his drink. Fuck, this man could drink me under the table. "You just spent," he looked down at his watch and squinted, "about an hour or so." He hiccupped a burp and laughed. "Sorry. An hour or so telling me all about your wife's addiction and your shitty marriage, and you're more worried about trying to make sure you stay away from Callie. That should tell yousomething."
“What should it tell me?” I asked. Finally,maybe someone will give me ananswer.
"Hey, Callie." Max was smiling up at someone behind me, and a warm, tingling sensation trickled along myspine.
"Hey, guys. Fancy meeting you here. Together." She slid next to me in the booth and smiled her perfectsmile.
Max stood up across from us and cleared his throat. “I gotta get home to the wife and kids. I’m sure everything will work out for you,Dylan.”
“Wait!” I yelled, holding out my hand to stop him. “What should it tellme?”
He lifted his shoulder in a laugh and positioned an old worn out ball cap on his head. “Try to stay away. See howthatworks foryou.”
I watched Max walk away. "That didn't fucking help me atall."
When the door closed behind him, I focused my eyes on Callie. It took a few minutes. I couldn't say how long; it was like time stood still. Clocks stopped, people blurred and ceased to exist around us, everything just faded. Everything butCallie.
“How are the kids?” sheasked.
“Great. They spent the day with Claudine. Hopefully, they won't grow up and be junkies like theirmom."
I didn't want to fall into her eyes and drown, so I squeezed mine shut. I prayed she wouldn't say any thoughtful words like she always did. I needed to do the opposite of like her. I needed her to go away so I could get back to the only kind of relationship I thought there was. A shittyone.
Instead, I said, "God, I can’t look at you. You’re too fucking beautiful.” My eyes shot open, shocked by my ownhonesty.
She sat stoic, not responding. She seemed pissed off at me. I haven’t seen her since—hold up—there was a car in her driveway allnight.
“Wait a second. Did Max call you? Who were you with allnight?”
“Vince.”
Did she give me a one-word answer?I needed more information. Was this Vince a cousin? A ninety-year-olduncle?
“Who’sVince?”
“He’s on the narcotics detective squad,” she said, crossing her arms over her stomach, then quickly unfolded them and nervously tapped them on thetable.
“Okay. But who is he to you?” I asked, reaching my hand out and touching a few strands of the hair that cascaded down in front ofher.
She shrugged and reached for the drink I left on the table. “He’s just my Wednesday night.” She downed the entirewhiskey.
My hand dropped from her hair, landing heavily against the cushion of the booth, almost knocking the drink from her hand.Hell, what was wrong with me?I could chalk it up to the whiskey, but I was getting tired of lying to myself about everything. I didn’t like thisVince.
