Page 112 of The Games We Play
“If it was that easy,” she said, tone sour.
“Then say what’s so hard about it,” I pushed. “What? Is it the fact I was married?”
Her head snapped up so fast I knew I’d hit a nerve.
Gotcha.
I held her gaze. “Yeah. I figured you knew.”
Reaching into my back pocket, I pulled out the cigarette box I hadn’t touched since this conversation started, then grabbed the ashtray from beneath the bar. With a flick of the lighter, I lit one and drew in the smoke, letting it steady me.
“I figured you were just waiting for me to say it out loud,” I muttered, exhaling slowly. “You could’ve just asked. You could’ve been honest.”
She said nothing. Just stared at me with something unreadable in her eyes.
“If that’s what’s been making this so difficult, me being married, then let me save you the energy.” I took another drag and tapped the ash into the tray. “It’s over. It’s been over. So if that was your reason for holding out, it’s gone.”
“If you figured I knew,” Lizzie snapped, “why not say something sooner and get your precious bar back?”
I took a slow drag of my cigarette, exhaling to the side as her words settled over me.
“Because I didn’t really know that was why, not at first,” I said. “Not until everything else started to fall apart because of that damn marriage. That’s when it clicked. It was the only thing that made sense.”
I pointed the burning tip of the cigarette toward her, not in anger, but with emphasis.
“I did the research, Lizzie. I get why you held onto it. You thought she’d be entitled to a piece. But if you’d just picked up the phone and called a lawyer, like I did, you’d know that’s not true.”
“What do you mean?” she asked, arms folding tighter across her chest.
“In Texas, it would’ve been mine. Married or not. The bar was always going to be my property. It had nothing to do with her.” I ashed the cigarette, then placed it between my lips again. “But instead of talking to me, you just assumed. You came in here with your attitude and condescending tone, acting like you knew everything. Just like Mom.”
I blew out a long stream of smoke, feeling the bitter truth loosen from my lungs.
Lizzie’s jaw tightened. She tucked her hair behind her ears—both sides now. She was trying to hold onto that composed, self-righteous thing she did, but I could see it cracking.
“Well, there was a reason Dad gave it to me,” she said, quieter this time. “Maybe he trusted me more.”
I barked a dry laugh, full of venom. “Yeah, more like a finalfuck youfrom beyond the grave. That man made it his life’s mission to screw with me. Why not do it in death, too? Or maybe he was so far gone, he didn’t even realize whose name he wrote down.”
Her face flushed with frustration. “How was I supposed to know? I hadn’t spoken to the man in years, and then suddenly I get a call saying I’m the proud new owner of his dive bar?”
“You could’ve asked,Lizzie. You could’ve picked up the damn phone instead of assuming you knew the whole story. Dad didn’t even know I was married. Hell, I barely remembered it myself until Penny—” I stopped, raising both hands in surrender. “Forget it. Doesn’t matter now. You know the truth.”
I turned away, pretending to busy myself with the glasses again, needing the distance more than I wanted to admit.
The silence that followed was the loudest part of the conversation. Lizzie, for once, had nothing to say. No smug retort. No carefully phrased insult. Just… silence.
I didn’t turn around when I said, “Aspen should be here any minute. You can run and hide like you usually do.”
The soft rustle of her bag and the shifting of feet on the wood floor told me she’d taken the invitation. When the office door shut in the distance, I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding.
It felt good. Saying the things I’d swallowed for a while. I’d always masked it with sarcasm, treated our tension like some sibling rivalry, a game of verbal sparring. But that hadn’t gotten me anywhere. Not with her. Not with this bar.
I braced my hands on the bar top, let my head hang between my arms, and took another long drag from the cigarette. It helped settle the edge still crackling in my chest.
This conversation was far from over. But for now, I needed a second to breathe.
Of course, the universe had perfect timing.
