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Screw it. I should’ve learned by now not to plan big moments or announcements. They never work out.

I pull my hand out of my skirt and shout, “We’re getting married!”

College basketball plays on the screen above me as I tip the pint to my lips, but I’m not paying attention.

“You alright?” Samuel asks. “Haven’t seen you around much. Thought you might’ve finally found yourself a girl. Lord knows plenty of them hit you up every time you come in.”

“It’s a mess,” I tell him, rolling the pint glass between my palms. “Got outta hand.”

I don’t have it in me to be evasive and shut down like I usually do. I’ve also observed Samuel speaking with other patrons who frequent the pub. He’s discreet. And if he’s the closest thing I have to a friend right now, I could use the advice. Or at least his ear.

“Ah, one of those casual things that are actually quicksand.”

I give him a puzzled look, thinking of Lynette and wondering if talking in riddles is a Connecticut thing.

“She trapped you.”

I consider it. “In a way.”

“Do you have feelings for her?” He’s engaging with me while still staying busy prepping, restocking and serving. It’s easier to be honest when he’s not standing in front of me demanding eye contact.

“The more I’m with her, the more I want to run.”

He laughs. “So end it. Especially if it was supposed to be no strings. Cut her loose. Before she really hooks you.”

Now a fishing reference. These conversations need my full brain power. And I’m running on fumes. “She… it’s complicated.”

He stops drying the glass in his hand. “She ain’t pregnant, is she?”

“Oh hell no,” I answer emphatically. “We haven’t gone there. Not going there.”

“You’re not even gettin’ any? Then what the hell are you doin’?”

“I know,” I say with a sigh. “She has a daughter, and… I’m afraid of what’ll happen to her when I leave.”

Samuel sets down the glass and leans on the bar real close. Thankfully it’s between rushes and the bar’s pretty quiet. Too early for the partiers. But a bit too late for the eaters. I wouldn’t be this open if I were surrounded by ears.

“You can’t save every pretty thing that enters your life.”

“It’s not like that.” But is it?

I’ve only recently allowed myself to recognize that Emma’s attractive, beyond the superficial assessment. But the saving-her part… that woke something up inside of me. The need to protect someone is usually ignited with a sense of urgency. It’s a quick flame that could become an inferno if I don’t intervene in time. And when I do, it usually means putting things right—and often results in a fight.

It’s different with Emma. I don’t know who to protect her from. I know what she’s going through, but at the same time, I don’t. She’s only let me in a little at a time. And I still don’t understand the history between Emma and Rachel.

What have I gotten myself involved in?

I say what I’m thinking out loud, like Sadie used to do. And like Emma does—the honesty thing. “I had a hard family life, and no one deserves to feel like they’re nothing. Especially when it comes from the people who brought you into the world.”

“I know that story too well, man. I get it. But you can’t save her if she doesn’t want to be saved.”

“I’m still not sure that’s what I’m doing. It just doesn’t feel right leaving yet.”

"You got yourself mixed up in a tangle of line. If you don’t cut yourself loose soon, you’ll lose the whole boat." He leans in again. "And be careful. This woman sounds like the kind who’ll reel you in before you realize you’re the catch. You’re the bait, bro. She’s a barracuda.”

“Isn’t that a song?”

“Hell, yeah, it is. Puttin’ it on right now.