“No. We were best friends—accent on best. Think of it like a two-year-old being a naughty girl and a twenty-five-year-old being a naughty girl. See the difference? Hear the difference?”
“For someone with dyslexia, you sure do have a lot of opinions about the English language.”
Shep barks a laugh, throwing his head back. “Touché.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
SHEP
“What’s Caroline doing?” I ask Howie as I take a seat at the bar he’s tending tonight. He’s owned this sports bar for almost a decade. I’ve occasionally filled in as bartender like he’s doing tonight. It’s a fun gig.
“Working late.” He eyes me while mixing a drink, daring me to suggest his darling wife might be screwing her boss.
I say nothing.
“Beer?”
I nod.
“How’s the eye doctor?”
“Depends on the day.” I wrap my hand around the cold mug of beer. “She’s a little too mysterious for my taste. At first it was fun, but now it’s just confusing. I’ve been stripped of my benefits.”
“Benefits?”
I grin before taking a swig of beer. Then I nod. “Friends with benefits … now without benefits.”
“Then what’s the point?”
I chuckle under my breath. “Good question.” I shrug. “She’s the female version of me. And I never imagined saying this, but I kinda dig female me.”
Giving me a lifted eyebrow, he runs a transaction through the register. “That’s messed up.”
“She’s … fun. Sexy. Competitive. And she makes me laugh like no other. I’m talking laughing until I have tears in my eyes. And I haven’t found a good explanation for it other than to say that the days I get to see her or talk to her are really incredibly good days. And the days I don’t … well…” I take another swig of beer “…they’re a little less … everything.”
He nods while wiping the bar beside me, an intent expression on his face. “Millie’s pregnant.”
Squinting at Howie, I wait for him to repeat himself. It sounded like he said Millie’s pregnant, but that’s ridiculous.
Biting his lips together, he gives me a slow nod.
I grunt, a stabbing feeling in my chest making it hard to breathe as an onslaught of emotions collide, unearthing resentment I thought I’d laid to rest many months ago.
“Random hookup guy. Caroline said it just happened. A few too many drinks. Hell, they didn’t even make it to her place or his. She’s keeping it. I guess the guy thought he was sterile. It’s the reason his previous marriage ended. Caroline said he’s elated, and Millie’s not exactly bummed about it either. Sorry, man.”
“I…” my head inches back and forth. “…I don’t …”
“Millie was messed up, Shep. Hell, I think she’s still messed up. She’s changed. It was never you. It was her. Millie changed so much from the person you married. Call it a midlife crisis, call it … whatever. You weren’t going to please her.”
“She didn’t want a baby,” I whisper, unblinkingly staring at my beer. “I … I wanted a baby. Not … her.”
“I know,” Howie says just above a whisper. “Caroline says it’s sometimes hard to know what you want until you just … have it. The best things in life come without warning. But I’m not sure that’s true. I think her saying that to me, under the illusion that she’s explaining Millie’s behavior, is actually a warning to me.”
I lift my gaze to his.
Howie tries to smile, but it’s not working. I see his pain. Hell, I feel it. “And I don’t think what’s coming my way is good.”
“Howie …”
He shakes his head. “She works late. We don’t have sex. When I touch her, she pulls away and blows it off like I’m being obnoxious or something. And sometimes I can be, but lately, I’ve just wanted to touch my wife. You know?”
“Yeah … I know all too well.”
After one beer, I head home, calling Sophie on the way. It’s been several days since we’ve talked. I just need her voice. That’s all.
Her phone goes straight to voicemail. “You’ve reached Dr. Sophie Ryan, please leave a detailed message.” It’s not her, but it’s her voice … and for now, that’s enough.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
SOPHIE
We do it.
We manage to digress back into the friendship category—conversing on the phone several times a week about work, current events, and our dogs.
We take the dogs to the park. Shep shows me his brewing setup in his garage. And we golf twice before our trip to Santa Monica.
However, Shep’s been a little different, a little less than his usual jovial self. It’s subtle, but noticeable. As much as I want to ask him about it, I don’t know if I want the answer. Avoiding personal details, reality, is what makes this friendship work.
Jimmy? Oh, he died. That’s what I tell myself. In actuality, he’s been residing in his room when I’m home. He doesn’t leave the house for work. He has groceries delivered. And he’s stopped walking Cersei while I’m at work. I’m certain he’s scared of me, yet vengeful. He’s not a telemarketer; he’s a full-time asshole living only to ruin my life. And he knows … he knows I will change the locks on the house if he leaves for so much as a trip to the end of the driveway.