She thought of Soraya and her blazing anger as she had cast that spell on her husband. Witchcraft! Soraya!
Biblically based witchcraft, somehow. But still.
She should feel satisfied that it turned out Soraya was kind of a hypocrite. Except it didn’t really feel all that hypocritical to Nora, as much as she wished it could.
The hurt Soraya was experiencing was real. What a shitty thing for her husband to do. Cheating on her, and then throwing her out of their house?
Nora parked on the side street near the bar and got out.
If Ben ever did anything like that ...
Well, he doesn’t want to talk to you right now. How is that better?
She cut that thought off as she crossed the street to the narrow strip of buildings and slipped into the alleyway, opening the door and heading up the stairs to Trigger’s. It was fairly quiet inside, the old country-western bar not really coming alive until later. There was a barrel in the corner that used to have peanuts for the patrons to eat and throw shells on the floor, but they didn’t do that anymore because it was a liability, and also messy.
In a few hours, it would be filled with people looking to get drunk, line dance, and hook up. She and Sam would miss the rush.
But this suited her just fine.
She spotted Sam as soon as she walked in. He was seated in the corner at a booth, facing away from her. Broad shouldered, a baseball cap on his head, his red T-shirt stretched tight across his back, his muscles visible through the thin fabric. That was a weird thing to focus on. Her best friend’s back muscles.
She walked across the room, maybe more loudly than strictly necessary, and took a seat across from him. “Did you order already?”
“Just a drink,” he said.
“Good. I’m starving.”
It didn’t take long for the waiter to come over and take their identical orders of a cheeseburger and fries, and Nora added a Coke to her order. She would’ve liked a drink, but she would start when she got home. Drinking alone when she was sad seemed like a great idea.
“How was the witchcraft?” he asked.
“Fine.” It made her uncomfortable that he zeroed right in on that. Like he knew she had cast a spell. Like he could see the sad hope burning at the center of her chest. Those blue eyes had always been far too keen at seeing beneath her defenses. She didn’t like it, but she loved him. It had always been a problem.
“Do you think you’re going to like it?”
“I think at the very least I’ll get a lot to write about.”
“You finally going to write a book?”
She scoffed. “I’m not going to write a book. You have to have money to self-publish and connections to traditionally publish, and look at me, I have none of that.”
“I think they call that self-rejection, Nora.”
“Maybe if everything was secure with Ben. Being a writer is a lot more practical when you have a dentist husband as your patron.”
“Yet, you didn’t write a book while things were good with him.”
She wanted to punch him in his handsome face. “I’m a serviceable writer. I can do copy and articles that entertain people for a minute. I don’t think I have enough in me to write a whole book.”
“That is bullshit.”
“I don’t have enough in me I want to write about.”
“Because then you’d have to deal with your issues?”
“Shut up.” She tried to laugh like this was friendly banter and not something a lot deeper and more uncomfortable. “I’m the one who went to therapy.” She cleared her throat. “Soraya’s husband is kicking her out of her house, and we’re going to help her move.”
She needed the subject change, and badly.
