He nods, slow, like he’s taking inventory. “You’re Luna’s brother-in-law, right? The finance guy?”
“For now.” The words slip out before I can stop them.
Rocky’s brows go up. “Oh yeah? And which part is up in the air, exactly?”
I don’t answer, just staring into the empty shot glass.
“I don’t love you anymore.”
The words replay like a skip in a record.
Rocky doesn’t push. He just signals the bartender for another round.
“Keep ’em coming, Emilio,” Rocky says. “My buddy here’s having a night.”
The barkeep’s mouth quirks. “Came to the right place then.” He pours heavy.
I down the second glass slower than the first and wait to feel something other than the excruciating ache where my heart is supposed to be.
Rocky’s quiet, but watchful. “She kick you out or what?”
“Something like that.”
“You deserve it?”
“Yup.”
“Shit.” And then he shakes his head. “Didn’t take you for the type who’d cheat on a good woman.”
That sobers me fast. “I didn’t cheat.” My voice comes out rough. “Only woman I’ve ever wanted is Ashley.”
He nods once. “Good. ’Cause that’s a hell of a mistake to try to come back from.”
We drink in silence for a few minutes. The group of women giggle, sneaking glances at Rocky—he’s got that rough and tumble golden retriever look going for him—but he ignores them. There’s something in his eyes, a weight that doesn’t match the easy grin.
And because I’m not gonna sit here talking about myself, I glance over.
“You learn to fly in the military?”
“Navy.”
“How long?”
He kind of winces. “Too long. Not long enough.” His tone’s light, but there’s an edge to it. “Ten years in sand and rotor wash makes you realize all the stuff you thought mattered doesn’t mean jack.”
“I could see that.” I’d been consumed with maintaining our standard of living. For Ashley. Securing our future. Maybe a little more…
But without her, without my family,it doesn’t mean jack…
We drink in silence for the next few minutes. I ask about flying, about his current job. He describes how he landed the gig, and that it’s a good fit, but that he can’t see himself doing it forever.
I don’t press. I don’t ask him what forever looks like to him. But before I can change the subject to something innocuous—like the last Patriots game, or, hell, maybe he follows the Cardinals? —he tips his head toward me again.
“You wanna know what really matters? The woman who still picks up when you call from a different time zone.”
I huff out a humorless laugh. I’d spent way too many nights in different time zones. I hadn't been on the other side of the world, but I might as well have been.
A few more drinks. Disjointed conversation… And then.
