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My ex-wife sees me watching her and lifts her hand, nervously waving her fingers at me.
I give her a nod, holding up my glass in a silent ‘thank you’. All the while, I wage an internal battle. I told myself I was done with her. Being around her hurts.
But shit. She looks pretty. I want her so much.
Her small smile and sad eyes beckon me. Just one glance and, like it or not, staying away from her is no longer an option.
With a heavy sigh, I rise to my feet, grab my drink, and make my way toward my ex-wife’s end of the bar. I slide onto the weathered stool beside her.
“Hi…” Alana says, her voice too chirpy.
“Hi…”
A lull settles over us.
“So, how was your day?” she asks shyly, turning to face me fully, with pink cheeks and glassy eyes.
“It was fine,” I start, giving that bland non-answer everyone expects. Until I remember who I’m talking to.
I don’t have to be politically correct with Alana. She wants the details. She always does. The boring, the exciting and all the bits in between. Talking to each other about our days used to be the highlight of mine.
“Actually, it was pretty boring until my afternoon break…” I say.
“Your afternoon break…?” she questions, her head tilted and her intent gaze alight with curiosity.
I glance around for eavesdroppers then I tell her all about how I walked in on the sheriff’s department dispatcher gettingdispatchedin the storage room by one of our rookie cops, and she tells me how many dogs humped her leg at work.
“Damn. Seven in one day?” I bob my head, impressed. “That beats your leg humping record, doesn’t it?”
She snorts with laughter. “The girls printed out a new certificate for me. I just need to figure out which wall to hang it on.”
“Well, then the next round is on me. You deserve a celebratory drink after dealing with so many dog dicks in one day.”
Laughing together, we take turns talking about our day, growing more and more comfortable with each other as we chat and laugh and trade workplace secrets we probably shouldn’t be sharing at a bar.
Wearing a knowing smile, Jane brings us another round of drinks and Alana shares her baskets of food with me. I’m grateful for the offer since I totally forgot that I didn’t have dinner tonight.
Alana angles her body to face me. “So are you going to have to fire the rookie? Or the dispatcher? Aren’t interoffice romances a no-no at the department?”
I exhale harshly. “I spent the entire afternoon trying to understand the handbook’s definition of ‘romance’ versus ‘flings’. Let me tell you, it’s not as straightforward as it sounds.” I rub my temples.“Just another headache I’m going to have to deal with.”
She takes a big gulp of her bourbon lemonade. “Well, good luck with that.”
My phone buzzes on the bar top in front of me and Candace’s name flashes across my screen. “Talk about headaches I have to deal with…”
There’s a drawn-out beat of silence and I see the wheels turning in Alana’s head.
She scrunches up her nose and she sucks in a deep breath. Then she starts rambling like a freight train. “Look—I know this is none of my business and I’m stepping way over the line even asking you this but I’m going to ask you anyway because my belly is full of bourbon and I’m feeling super emotional tonight and I—”
“Candace?” I ask simply.
Because that’s how well I know the woman sitting here at this bar next to me. Apparently, the fact that we signed divorce papers didn’t take away my ability to read her body language.
She nods, slow and embarrassed.
Just a few days ago, when we were in Starlight Falls, I was fumbling around, trying to explain the Candace situation to her, but Alana wasn’t having it. She said she didn’t want to talk about it. Well, it seems that now she’s ready to understand the truth.
I’m good with that.
