“Aubrey, I don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t know anything about you outside of the fact that you chased me down earlier, called me Josh, then showed up at the coffee shop behind the counter when I needed a refill. For all I know, you’re stalking me.”
He smiled, and it was crooked, the left edge of his lip quirking up—just like Josh’s—and she shut her eyes and pretended that the hand on her arm belonged to the ghost of a man she missed dreadfully. After a few moments, she opened her eyes, nodded, and let Chase lead her back in the chair.
“Want to tell me what’s going on?” he asked.
Vinny arrived with the drinks. She was silent until he left, took a huge long pull on the straw, felt the familiar, bitter pull of the gin. Liquid courage.
She met Chase’s eyes again.
“My husband . . .”
He actually sat back in his chair. She really knew how to grab someone’s attention.
“I didn’t know you were married.”
How could he miss that? She glanced down at her finger. Her ring wasn’t on.
She panicked for a moment, then remembered. She’d slipped it off before the shower like she always did after a long run, because getting soap in the grooves chafed the swollen flesh.
And she’d forgotten to put it back on.
Holy shit.
She took a deep breath. Her therapist had always told her things happen for a reason.
But her wedding ring?
On the day he was declared dead?
And here she was, sitting across from another man. She was a terrible person.
“Chase, I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I never leave my house without it. I know, I am a walking contradiction. Yes. I’m married. Was married. Am. He, Josh, went missing five years ago.”
“What happened?”
This should fix things.
“The police think I murdered him.”
He didn’t miss a beat. “Did you?”
“No. But it didn’t stop them from putting me through hell.”
“Jesus. That sounds like a mystery novel.”
She laughed humorlessly. “He disappeared the night of his best friend’s bachelor party. The courts have just declared him legally dead. Today, I mean.”
He sat back in his chair, looking stunned. “You must be terribly upset.”
“Yeah. I am. So you see, now isn’t really a good time for me to . . .”
She realized she’d finished the drink. It felt good. Good to have a little buzz. Good to talk to someone. Good to get it off her chest for once, instead of holding herself together.
Her mind said, Careful, Aubrey.
The rest of her said, Fuck off. For once, just leave me alone.
Too bad she couldn’t listen to her own good advice.
“Chase, you seem like a nice guy. I don’t think you want to get rolled up in my drama. I should probably go.”
He actually looked hurt. “When are you going to stop trying to run away from me?”
“I can’t help it. You remind me of him.”
“Do we look similar?”
“Not at all. You are the exact opposite of him in many ways. But you walk alike.”
And when you put your skin to mine, I feel like an electrical storm is surging through my body. Just like I did with him. And you’re only ever supposed to feel that with one person. That’s all it’s supposed to be. You get one chance at this in life. One. No one really gets two bites at the apple, do they?
Chase had another half smile on his face.
“So I walk like your dead husband. Josh.”
“Stop using his name,” she snapped.
“Sorry. I thought . . .”
God, Aubrey. Extricate yourself already.
She wanted to leave. She wanted to walk out the door. But something was holding her there. Something . . .
“No, it’s okay. This is my problem, not yours. I’m not ready to get involved with someone.”
He was quiet for a moment, then said, “I see.”
Vinny brought another drink. She took a large sip. Another. Another. Her head was feeling swimmy. She felt the edges slip away, that familiar rush.
She wasn’t an alcoholic, far from it. Just a girl who got very drunk, very quickly, off any manner of alcohol. And didn’t know when to stop.
The second drink was gone now. She signaled Vinny for another.
“You couldn’t possibly understand,” she said. “It doesn’t even make sense to me.”
“Couldn’t I, Aubrey? There’s no way for me to possibly understand?”
He took her hand. His thumb slid across the inside of her wrist. She was frozen.
“You know he’s dead, but there’s no body. So somewhere, deep inside you, in a place you don’t ever acknowledge, there’s a tiny quivering bead of hope.”
Whisper-soft swipes against her skin. His touch was hypnotic.
“Yes.”
“And you’ve been faithful to him, all these years.”
“Yes.”
“You were humiliated and embarrassed by the police and the press. Lost the respect of your peers, your friends, your family.”
“Yes,” she whispered.
He dropped his voice, and she heard something in there, something so familiar.