At Peace (The 'Burg #2)(98)

“Yeah?”

“Whatever you do will be right, sweetheart.”

I felt tears fill my eyes because this, just this, was exactly what I needed to hear and I whispered, “Thanks, honey.”

“I wanna see you, make sure you’re all right. I’ll stop by Bobbie’s sometime today.”

“Okay,” I agreed immediately, selfishly and stupidly.

“Got the kids this week, but they’re all over the place all the time so I could take you to Frank’s one night this week.”

“I don’t know my schedule, my brother and his girlfriend are coming into town next weekend and I’ve gotta ask Bobbie for a change.”

“Find out, you can tell me when I stop by.”

“Okay,” I agreed, again immediately, selfishly and stupidly then I said, “I have to get to work.”

“All right, I’ll let you go,” he replied then said softly, “Hang in there, honey.”

“I’ll try.”

“Later, sweetheart.”

“Later, Mike.”

I slid my phone shut and tapped it on my forehead.

Then I dropped it in my purse, unlocked my doors and hurried into work.

* * * * *

After work, I walked into J&J’s.

My girls were out for the evening, Kate with Dane, Keira with a pack of friends who’d scheduled a last minute movie that one of her friends’ Dad’s was crazy enough to take a pack of girls to. I had my visit from Mike at the Garden Center and we’d set dinner for Tuesday. Bobbie cleared me for the weekend, I had Sunday off anyway and she knew she’d been leaning on me a lot. I never asked for anything so she rearranged the schedule and gave me the time I needed.

Now with a clear night, I decided I needed girlfriend advice.

I’d thought to go home, pour a glass of wine and call one of my friends in Chicago. I was closer to them obviously, though our communication via e-mail, texts and phone calls had trailed off as well when my job went full-time, not to mention overtime. But they knew me, most of them for ages, and they’d give good advice.

But they all also knew Tim and loved him and I wasn’t certain how they’d feel about me moving on, especially how I was doing that. They were my friends, they’d want to help, I knew that, but I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t share this, what was happening, how I was behaving and I was worried how they’d react and what they’d think of me.

And they didn’t know Joe.

Feb, her sister-in-law Dee and Cheryl were all working, as was Darryl and I was relieved that both Feb and Cheryl were there. Perfect.

“How’s tricks, babe?” Cheryl called as I walked down to Colt’s end of the bar and sat on the stool next to his empty one.

“In-freaking-sane,” I told her honestly, her eyes got big, Dee and Feb were also both looking at me and the minute I said this they moved as a pack to my end of the bar.

It was Sunday at J&J’s, a Sunday in the summer. There were a few people in, not many, regulars who couldn’t care less if it was summer and sunny. They were, as usual, camped out for the long haul.

“You want a drink?” Dee asked me when she hit my end of the bar.

“Diet Coke,” I answered.

“Girl, your face says shot of tequila,” Cheryl noted, staring at me closely.

“That bad?” I asked.

Feb leaned her elbows on the bar and looked into my eyes. “What’s up, Vi? Is it the box?”

Colt had told Feb about the box too. I wasn’t surprised. Tim had told me everything about work. I didn’t know if this was allowed and I never asked because I didn’t want him to think he needed to stop but I never breathed a word to anyone about anything he said. The shit he saw, the shit people did, he had to let it go and I was that sponge that could soak it out of him, find a way to ring myself dry but let him go back to work feeling clean.

“No, not really, it’s…” I looked at the three of them. I didn’t know Dee all that well but I couldn’t exactly ask her to take a hike. This was her bar.

But I couldn’t stay locked in my head anymore.

I needed to unlock the door and head out but before I did that, I needed direction.

So the minute Dee placed my Diet Coke on the bar, I started talking and I told them everything, in somewhat explicit detail, about Joe and me; Mike and me; Joe and the girls; Mike and his house, dog and being a good guy; Joe’s terrible history and our f**ked up status; Mike’s not-as-terrible but still-not-great history and our confusing status.

By the time I was done talking, all three were leaning toward me, their forearms on the bar.

“Lose the neighbor,” Cheryl advised the minute I stopped speaking.

Feb’s head turned to her, Cheryl sandwiched shoulder to shoulder in the middle of her and Dee, and her eyebrows shot up when she asked, “What?”

“Not worth it,” Cheryl decreed, “been there, done that, got the f**kin’ t-shirt and it didn’t fit so I threw the motherf*cker out.”

“Cal’s a good guy,” Feb stated.

“Yeah, he is and he’s provin’ that. Still, he’s f**ked up and a man stays f**ked up for seventeen years, even Wonder Woman couldn’t fix his shit,” Cheryl replied.

“I’ve heard that story and, Cheryl, girl, you gotta admit, there’s a reason that kind of thing would f**k him up for seventeen years,” Dee put in.