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I stare at my glass, turning it between my fingers, contemplating smashing the thing into the mirror behind the bar, into the reflection of a man who barely looks like me. That man looks pale and red-eyed. He’s skewed by the fog of liquor. And he let this happen to himself. One of his best friends let him get here.
Gripping the glass tightly in my fist, I grate the question through my teeth. ‘Why didn’t you tell me she’s married?’
Edmond swigs his beer and puts the bottle down on the bar. ‘I won’t fight with you, Drew.’
I scoff. ‘Maybe I’ll be the judge of that when you tell me why the fuck you lied to me.’
He shakes his head, and I wonder whether he’ll walk away. Maybe he should. Maybe I’m done with the whole damn farce anyway.
Or, maybe I need to hear what he has to say because our friendship might otherwise end right now.
My glass is topped up – the only thing stopping me from crushing it in my hand. I throw the liquor back and relish the burn in my throat and chest that momentarily masks what else I’m feeling inside. I will it to travel directly to my head and kill my thoughts.
‘I don’t know everything. I don’t have the full story.’ Edmond’s words bring me back from darkness. ‘What I can tell you is that marriage is the reason she left London. She hasn’t seen him in months. Not since she’s been here.’
‘Then why is he here and dressed in a towel in her apartment?’ My words are almost a bark.
‘I can’t answer that, and I can’t answer everything for you. I’m here because I want you to appreciate it’s not as straightforward as you think it is. She came to me on Tuesday and said she didn’t know what to do about what’s going on with you two. I told her to tell you about her husband. That’s where it stopped. I’m not sure what she decided, and I don’t know how it happened that he’s here now.’
I snort and knock back my scotch. ‘It seems fucking obvious to me. He came here for her.’
Edmond sighs, his cheeks puffing out. ‘I hope not. And I hope she doesn’t go back with him.’
I try to sit straighter but wobble on my stool and have to brace myself, palms on the bar. My scotch fog makes piecing everything together difficult. ‘But she might.’
He nods silently.
‘If she doesn’t want to be back with him, then how did he find her?’
‘I have no idea, Drew. He turned up at the restaurant this afternoon, and she left. I can’t say what he’s doing here, but I’ll tell you this: Becky is not the person she was when she came to me in London. She’s stronger and she’s happier. You helped her with that.’
I know that’s true. At least I thought I did. Then, I also thought she was falling in love with me. ‘She lied to me.’ My words have about as much strength as I feel.
‘I know. And I can see you’re hurting, my friend. You need to talk to her.’
‘Maybe I do.’ I push up to stand and find my legs unsteady beneath me. ‘Maybe I don’t. She could have talked to me for the last four weeks we’ve been together and she didn’t bother. Why should I give a damn now?’
Even as I say the words, I know why. Because I love her. As messed up as it is. As fake as we’ve been. As fucked up as all this is. I love her.
Edmond puts a hand on my shoulder to balance me. Though I’m sour at him, I’m grateful to him for being the only thing keeping me upright. ‘Before you make any decisions, you need to go home and sleep this off.’
‘Or maybe I go there and tell him a few things. Let him be crushed by her too.’
He shakes his head. ‘You need to let them talk, Drew.’
‘So they can work things out?’ I drag my fingers through my hair, pulling on the roots. ‘Jesus.’
The word leaves me on an exhale. I was ready to give her everything. Give her all of me. And she’s let me down more than anyone else in my entire life.
‘Go home to bed and see how you feel tomorrow.’
I flop back down onto my stool and hold up my empty glass one more time. ‘I think I’ll still feel like someone punched me in the gut.’
I rest my head on my forearm on the bar and shut my eyes, willing myself to blankness. The last thing I hear is the sound of Sarah’s voice.
‘I’ll take care of him, Edmond. He needs me.’
* * *
