I set down the phone on the kitchen counter and soak in the moment—the comfort of Cormac’s house and his scent. The knowledge that he’s going to be okay. Even if I’m certain he’ll change his mind.
He’d be a fool not to change his mind.
But I won’t changemymind.
I pick up my phone again and respond to José:
If you’re not in jail, meet me at The Ginger Station.
It’s early,before ten, and the brewery parking lot is empty except for one car: José’s. We open at noon on weekdays, and the staff won’t start arriving until closer to eleven.
My chest feels tight as I enter through the front door of this place I’ve poured so much of myself into.
José is sitting at the bar, his hand bandaged like mine is, and I’m reminded of that night, all those months ago, when I asked him what it would take to get Pansy to back off.
Maybe I should have been asking myself what it would take formeto back off.
This. Cormac injured, for me.
José turns as I approach him. I’m furious with him. Apoplectic. But quite honestly…
“You look terrible.”
His face is puffy, and his eye is discolored where I knocked it from the side.
He nods. “I’m so fucking sorry. When I got back to the apartment, Pansy had left with all her things. And some of mine. She left me a Post-it note.”
It’s a mark of my mood that I don’t find that even a little funny. “Of course she did. Let me guess what it said.”
“It doesn’t matter what it said. She’s gone.”
He silently gets up and slips behind the bar. Pours us both a neat whiskey from the bottle we keep back there just for us.
I don’t point out that it’s too early. We both know exactly what time it is, and exactly what this drink will be.
I take a deep, slow breath in, then let the words out like blood gushing from a wound.
“We can’t work together anymore.”
He looks agonized, and I feel like I just ripped open my own chest. “Nora, I’ll apologize to him. He can press charges if he wants, obviously, and maybe he should. Either way, we could still?—”
I’m already shaking my head. It agonizes me to think of losing this place, of losing everything we’ve built, but I know it’s the only way I can really move forward. José, too.
“This thing between Cormac and me…it started as a fake relationship,” I admit.
I owe him that bit of honesty. Moving forward, I’m abandoning convenient lies.
He arcs his head sharply upward. “What the fuck?”
“You were right about that. I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you to have to lie to Pansy. But…” I take a deep breath. “I’ve been actively trying to break you two up for weeks. But I’ve wanted to for longer…ever since she sent me those texts last year. I know you didn’t believe me at the time, but they were from her. She basically admitted it when we were at the restaurant the other night. I wanted to tell you about all of this, but you were always so defensive whenever I said anything about her. I was worried you’d shut down.”
He leans back on his stool, studying me. I can’t read him anymore, a thought that feels weighted with sadness. We were always so close. So similar.
After a long moment, he says, “You wanted to protect me.”
“Sure. I also didn’t want to lose this place. I didn’t wantusto lose it. She was trying to take it away.”
He gives a single nod. “She was… I realize that now.”
