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I was confused, cocking my head to the side. “What? You don’t want to go to the cops? Why not? Don’t you want to bring these people to justice?”
“These peopleare the freaking Irish Mob. There’s no way that someone like me could hope to bring them down all by myself.”
“But you’re not by yourself. You’ve got me, and you’ve got Trevor.”
She pursed her lips, nodding in understanding.
“I know. And I don’t doubt for a sec that you two would do anything to help me. But right now, I just want to put all of this behind me as quickly as I can.”
“Youmight want to, buttheywon’t.”
Kat shook her head. “I don’t know. I don’t want to think about it right now.”
She wasn’t going to be able to avoid the issue forever. At the same time, I could understand why she might not want to face it head-on right then and there.
“OK, I’m freaking starving,” she said. “Got anything for dinner?”
I turned the laptop around to face her. “Funny you should ask…”
We spent the next few minutes looking over the Lucky Star menu, going maybe a wee bit overboard with our order. It was way more than two people could hope to eat in one sitting, but I was happy to indulge my bestie.
We placed the order and cracked open a bottle of wine.
“God, nothing like being freaking imprisoned to make you appreciate something simple like having a glass of wine with a friend,” she said, taking the glass of Sauv Blanc from my hand and looking into it.
Her expression fell, and she was silent for several long moments.
“I didn’t want to lose hope,” she said. “I tried not to let what was going on crush me. But it was so hard to not spend every minute thinking about how at any second someone might open the door with a gun in his hand and…”
A tear trickled down her face and I wasted no time grabbing some nearby tissues and hurrying around the counter to her, wrapping my arm around her shoulders.
“It’s OK,” I said. “You’re safe now. I’m here.”
She nodded quickly, sniffling and wiping away her tears.
“Yeah. I know. It’s just… this is going to take some time to get over, I’m realizing.”
“Of course, it is. This was some serious trauma you went through. And trauma is going to take time and work to even begin to process.”
“Yeah.” Her voice was soft. “In the meantime, I’m happy to be here, with my best friend, and some wine.”
She raised her glass, ready to give a toast.
“What should we drink to?”
“To you being safe and sound where you belong.”
We tapped rims.
“Cheers,” she said.
“Slainte.”
My eyes went wide as soon as I said the word.
Kat cocked her head to the side. “Slan-she?” she asked. “What does that mean?”
I’d screwed up, using the word I’d learned while on my date, or whatever it had been with Connor.
