Page 120 of Indiscretion

After a long time, she wiped her cheeks with the back of her hand and sniffled. “I have to go in and talk to the kids before it gets too late.”

“Do you want me to go with you?”

Naomi smiled sadly. “No. But thank you. Frannie’s sister-in-law is still here. We’re going to talk to them together.”

I nodded. I had the strongest urge to tell her I loved her as I watched her walk from the car to the door. But it wasn’t because I thought she needed to hear it. It was because I had a sinking feeling I might never get the chance to tell her.

Chapter 36

DAWSON

A week later, Frannie’s health had miraculously started to improve. She wasn’t out of the woods yet, but she’d been released from the ICU into a stepdown unit. I hadn’t seen much of Naomi because Frannie’s sister-in-law had been keeping an eye on the kids when she went to the hospital. On the two days she’d come into the office, I’d made myself scarce. And tonight was the second night in a row I’d gone from the office to a bar down the block from my apartment instead of going home and getting the sleep I desperately needed.

The same bartender was on tonight as last night. I took the same stool, and he walked over and flung a hand towel over his shoulder. “Vodka soda?”

I nodded. “Good memory.”

He grabbed a glass from beneath the bar and plucked a bottle of Tito’s from the rack on the wall. “You don’t look like most of my other patrons.”

I felt my brows draw together and looked around. Two other guys were seated around the bar—one was probably in his sixties with a bulbous nose and eyes glued to a horse race on TV, and the other I thought was a bit older and I was pretty sure he might’ve been here last night. Might’ve been wearing those same clothes, too.

“Older crowd?”

He picked up the spray nozzle and topped off my glass with seltzer, gesturing with his chin to the guy watching TV. “Jack over there asked me if he could sign over his Social Security check in exchange for unlimited beer. I told him that was a losing proposition. Frank…” He nodded toward the other man. “He’s usually waiting outside when I get here at ten in the morning. You look like you have a job.”

Considering I had canceled four meetings in the last two days, I might not for long. Yet I shrugged. “It pays the bills.”

The bartender slid the drink over to my side of the bar and extended a hand. “Remy Soriano.”

I shook, even though I didn’t feel like making small talk. “Dawson Reed.”

“So why are you drowning your sorrows two nights in a row in a shithole like this?”

I slugged back half of my glass. The alcohol burned going down. “Does the owner of this place know you insult the customers and call it a shithole?”

He smirked. “Sure does. I’m the proud owner of this shithole.”

I chuckled. “What makes you think I’m trying to drown my sorrows? Maybe I’m just an alcoholic who needs a new place to drink.”

“You took five hours to kill three not-so-strong vodka sodas last night and wobbled out of here. You aren’t good enough at drinking to be an alcoholic.”

Fair point. But he was still waiting for an answer. So I thought I’d give him one that would make him go away. “I almost killed someone.”

His brows jumped, but unfortunately, he didn’t budge. “Did they deserve it?”

“Not in the least.”

“Was it an accident?”

I sighed. “If you don’t mind, I’d prefer not to talk.”

Remy held up his hands. “You got it.”

I pointed to my glass. “How about making these stronger today?”

“You’re the boss.”

I spent the next three hours drinkingfourdrinks. The bartender hadn’t been exaggerating earlier—three made me wobble. So I probably should’ve stopped there because four, well, four made me talk too much.

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