“Not. Drunk. Watch me prove it.” Since no one seems to believe how pathetically sober I actually am, I set my phone down and climb on top of the leather bar stool, my four-inch block heels not fazing me one bit. I kick one leg out onto the bar and signal for Freddie to help me up. He shakes his head but does what I ask. “I could get fired for this, you know?”
“Oh, shut up, Freddie. You own the damn bar.”
I stand tall and spin, just for shits and giggles. “Does this look like the spin of a drunk woman?”
“Never should have challenged her,” Berkley tells Freddie, smiling brightly. “Show’s over, babe. Time to get down and spill the sour beans.”
I let out an exhausted huff and climb off the bar top, finding my original seat. “Ready to drop it now?” I tilt my head, signaling for Freddie to cut the questions and refill my tequila.
“He might be, but I’m not,” Berk says from the chair beside me while Freddie chuckles. I take in Berkley’s beautiful presence. Her pin-straight black hair is pulled into a slicked-back ponytail. She’s wearing an emerald green dress that hugs every one of her voluptuous curves, only accentuating the pigment of her brown skin. The body highlight she never leaves the house without draws attention to her prettyclavicle and delicate features. It’s no wonder Berkley already found her contender for the night. She’s a knockout.
And I’m not sure I could be mad at her if I tried. We’ve been friends since high school, and she’s been nothing but good to me.
Supportive and loyal to a fault. Also, my biggest advocate when I self-sabotage. Which is primarily why I understand her need to ask questions now that Freddie kindly pointed out the difference in me tonight.
I don’t want to talk about it.
I just want to come to my favorite bar. Have a drink—or seven. Numb the sadness a little bit, and then go home to sleep it off.
In that order.
“You’re sad. You’ve been sad,” Berkley tells me as if it’s life-changing news.
I don’t respond because if I do…if I admit to missing Easton with everything inside of me, I’ll break. I don’t break for anyone. Never let them see me fall.
Yet, everything reminds me of him. The smells in this bar. Just the words “horse” and “pickleback shot.” He’s everywhere.
But this is my reality, and I can’t change that.
“I’m sad,” I admit, my body feeling like it physically just took a blow.
Freddie slides a fresh bowl of bar nuts in front of me, urging me to eat. I grab a cashew and inspect it before popping it into my mouth. “I shouldn’t be sad, but I am.”
Berkley and Freddie know about Easton. Not as much as Capri does, but they know he means a lot to me. “We should talk about it. Talk about him. It might be good for you,” Berkley tells me kindly.
I sift through the bowl, searching for a roasted walnut. Inever did like these things. “I just miss him. I knew what we had wasn’t meant to be forever, but I never expected to feel likethisover it.”
“Like what?” Freddie asks, linking my hand with his.
“Like I lost him.”
“Oh, Collie. Don’t you guys still talk? I thought I heard you on the phone with him the other day.” She did. We talk all the time since getting back to our separate lives. But how long do we just carry on with this long-distance friendship and never bring up seeing each other again?
We’ve both beaten around it.
“We do. We talk constantly. But it just doesn’t feel right when my whole body misses him. I want to suggest seeing each other, but I don’t know where his head is at. He’s…been going through a lot…” I draw out.
“Can I give my two cents?” Freddie asks, and I already know it’ll either make me laugh or cry. There’s never an in between. Freddie is intuitive, and we’ve known each other through many seasons of our lives. His advice usually sucks to hear, but it puts my stubbornness in check.
“Go for it,” I tell him, open to anything now that the conversation has already started. “But I’m gonna need another shot to get me through it.”
Freddie starts to refill my glass, but Berkley stops him, swatting his wrist away. “She’s had enough.”
“Bitches,” I mumble, but don’t put up a fight.
“Okay, my turn to take the floor,” Freddie announces, ignoring the calls from other customers at the end of the bar. Nope. He’s been waiting for his chance to put me in my place. I can feel it. “Collie, you know you’re my girl. Practically my sister from another mister at this point. Hell, you’ve been in my home more times than I can count. Brett and I love you like our own, baby girl. But you’re as stupid as adomestic turkey sometimes. Just because Easton lives in another state doesn’t mean he’s off-limits. Is he married?”
“Uhhh, no…technically, he almost was but…”
