Chapter 92

I spent the entire evening at a small bar, from three in the afternoon until nine, slowly sipping my drinks. I didn't overindulge, but I drank long enough to feel that pleasant numbness where worries faded away.

Mr. Seth, the bar owner, knew me well. I didn't have to worry about becoming intoxicated, even alone.

"When are you heading out? Is someone picking you up?" he asked. I never knew his first name; everyone called him Mr. Seth. He looked to be in his fifties—about my dad's age, if he were still alive.

"I guess I should go," I said, though leaving was the last thing I wanted. But I had work tomorrow. I needed to get home and at least attempt to sleep. Tonight's drinking was my farewell to whatever remained of my feelings for Jace.

As I stood, Mr. Seth stepped in front of me. "I'm not letting you leave like this. I'll have someone take you home."

Mr. Seth always looked out for his patrons. He'd run this cozy, tucked-away bar for years, and it was always full. That's because the regulars knew they could rely on him.

I'd started coming here during college, the first time after seeing Jace dancing with another girl. Jealous and heartbroken, I'd run here and drank until I passed out. When I woke, it was nearly dawn, and I was alone. I panicked, but Mr. Seth simply made me a plate of pasta and told me to come back if I ever needed to drink, warning me to avoid other, less safe establishments.

Since then, whenever I felt down, I came here. He never stopped me from drinking, but always ensured my safety, regardless of how much I consumed. I also knew he'd once had a daughter who, after a difficult breakup, drank too much and was assaulted. She never recovered and later took her own life. Mr. Seth opened this bar to provide a safe haven for heartbroken women, where he could keep a watchful eye.

"Okay," I agreed, not wanting to cause him further worry.

"Wait here," Mr. Seth said, turning to make some calls.

"Mr. Seth," a familiar voice called.

I looked up to see Wayne approaching.

I smiled. "Mr. Seth, it seems I won't need that ride after all."

Wayne knew the place; we'd bumped into each other here before. Tonight felt like another coincidence. But I knew better—there were no real coincidences, only events bound to happen.

"Settle up the tab," I said, tugging on Mr. Seth's sleeve.

"No need, next time," he waved me off.

I didn't argue; I'd pay double next time. But Wayne pulled out his phone, scanned the payment code without asking the amount, and sent several hundred dollars. Mr. Seth looked like he was about to protest, but Wayne said, "Whatever's extra, keep it for her next visit."

Another visit? Did he think I was a regular drunk? Still, it was easier if he believed I was intoxicated.

Wayne put an arm around me and led me out. The cool night air cleared my head.

"Car or bike?" he asked.

I hesitated, a foggy memory surfacing. Back when Wayne was always around, I didn't have a driver's license. I biked everywhere, and whenever I drank here, Wayne would pick me up on his bike.