Page 68 of The Interns

Reed

“Willa.”

She finally looked up from the copy of What to Expect When You’re Expecting she had been reading during every spare moment. Reed tilted his empty glass toward her.

“Don’t you have class tomorrow?” she asked as she reached for the bourbon bottle behind the bar.

“Yep.”

She eyed him up and down, her hand wrapped around the bottle that remained planted on the bar.

“First class isn’t until the afternoon,” he explained in response to her disapproval. She picked up the bottle and put a very small pour in his glass, his third of the night. “Thank you.”

She watched him take a sip as she screwed the cap on then glanced up at the television screen that had held his attention all night. He’d spent every night so far this week in the nearly empty bar with a pregnant lady who was neither his wife nor his girlfriend, putting a hurtin’ on a bottle of Wild Turkey and mindlessly watching television until it was closing time. Tonight’s programming choice was the Weather Channel which was about as sad as it got. There was only QVC left after this, and if it got to that point, he might as well just hide out at home.

She settled back into the chair she kept behind the bar for herself these days. “You okay?”

He took another sip, his face contorting as the burn traveled through his chest. She hummed a judgmental sound then glanced down at the cell phone that had been setting out on the bar in front of him every night, untouched.

“How’s Maya doing?”

He shrugged his shoulders then returned his attention to the television, feigning interest in reports on snowfall in the Mid-Atlantic states.

“No wonder you feel like shit then,” she said. “I hate it when Dev and me aren’t on the same page.”

He tore his eyes away from the television and stared with exasperation. She threw it right back at him. “I’m trying to give her space,” he explained finally.

“You sure that’s what she wants?” She pointedly stared at his cell phone again.

He followed her gaze down and placed his hand over the phone, then picked it up and dropped it in his front pocket before going back to his drink and television. In his periphery, he caught her shaking her head at him before cracking her book open again.

* * *

Reed felt a warm hand clap against his back. He turned to find his older brother, dressed in plain clothes, sliding into the bar stool next to him. He checked his watch which read 10:33 p.m. “What are you doing out so late?”

Emmett reached for Reed’s glass and lifted it to see a small amount of brown liquid. He swirled it then threw it back in one sip and slid the empty glass towards Willa and out of his reach. “I was in the neighborhood, so I decided to drop in.”

Reed looked to Willa who had her nose stuck in her book. “Did you call him?”

“Nope,” she said without looking up which he knew meant yes.

“Willa, I’m not drunk.”

“Okay,” she said, still not making eye contact.

“I don’t need a designated driver. I walked here,” Reed insisted.

“Mmm hmm,” she hummed.

“I’ve been comin’ here quite a bit lately,” Emmett offered. “Isn’t that right, Willa?”

“Yep. Can’t get rid of you Stanton boys to save my life.”

Emmett folded his hands on the bar and leaned in closer. Reed stared ahead and committed even harder to watching the television, as if he was really interested in one of those late-night, as-seen-on-TV- commercials for some sort of vegetable dicer. The last thing he needed tonight was Willa and Emmett teaming up for an intervention. How would it change anything about his situation? He was here. She was not and never would be. The end. He just needed time and space and maybe a little bit of whiskey to accept that and move on with his life.

“So what brings you here tonight?” Emmett asked.

Reed shrugged. “Didn’t want to be alone.”

---