“I don’t know how you ever married him. Was it a bad acid trip? Maybe beer goggles that never went away? I don’t get it. You’re a good-looking woman. You’ve got legs for miles and boobs that won’t quit. Please explain how a sexy, smart lady such as yourself ends up married to Mr. Pencil Pusher.” Lee made a face and polished off his wine, holding out the glass for me to refill it. I didn’t feel uncomfortable with Lee noticing my boobs and legs. I knew that I was no threat to his three-year relationship with his boyfriend Kevin.
But he asked a good question.
How had I ended up married to Chris O’Neil?
I hadn’t even taken his last name. That should have told me something.
The answer was simple.
Because I hadn’t ended up with Yossarian Frazier.
“Life is funny like that,” I muttered, grabbing a frozen dinner from the freezer and popping it in the microwave.
“Well, that was deep,” Lee snarked better I ever could. “You really are the worst at talking about things. As a social worker, you should know the importance of unloading. Bottling things up leads to deep seeded rage and possible homicidal explosions.”
I rolled my eyes. “If I need to unload, I’ll find myself a therapist.”
“Ouch. I feel like you’re stomping all over our nicely functional friendship here, Im,” Lee laughed and I knew he wasn’t serious. He respected my boundaries. And I had lots of them.
I polished off the rest of my wine and leaned back against the counter. My head felt a little fuzzy from drinking the alcohol so fast.
“Do you believe in fate?” I asked suddenly.
Lee gave me the bitch-you-be-crazy look. “No. I don’t think anything in life is pre-destined. It’s all coincidental or the consequence of choices.”
“What about second chances? Do you think they’re possible?”
My good buddy put his empty wine glass down and gave me a hard stare. “What’s this about, Imogen? Did something happen today? You’re being especially vague this evening.”
Yoss was the secret of my heart I had always refused to tell.
And now I had found him again.
But it wasn’t some sort of fairytale ending.
He was lying in a hospital room, badly beaten. Angry. Alone.
He had said words that hurt.
He acted as though he wanted nothing to do with me.
But he was here.
I had waited years to find out what had happened.
Years.
I smiled at Lee. “It was anunusualday.”
“Well that’s cryptic. You know I hate that shit. It’s up there those overly cute engagement photos and birth announcements people plaster all over social media. I mean who has time for all that crap?” Lee grabbed a fork and took a bite of my nuked pasta. “Damn, that’s hot! I think I lost a layer of skin from my tongue!”
“Let that teach you to not eat my food,” I remarked primly, picking up my plate and carrying it into the living room.
“So tell me how your day was so unusual,” Lee prompted, sitting on my settee and propping his feet up on my coffee table, just because he knew it would annoy me.
“I was given a new case,” I said, shoving food in my mouth. I hated cooking. So my diet typically consisted of pre-prepared meals and boxes of cookies. I liked cooking, but could never summon the energy required to actually bother.
“Oh yeah? Do tell.” Lee sat up, looking interested.
