Page 84 of Wreckage and Rain

"It isn't supposed to be better. It's supposed to be true."

She is quiet. She holds the envelope against her chest like something she's protecting.

"How am I supposed to hold all of it?"

"The same way you have held everything else. By being honest about how hard it is."

"That isn't enough."

"It's never enough, Summer."

She closes her eyes. Leans her head back against the couch. The line of her throat is something I have trained myself to stop looking at over the last three months. I look at the floor instead.

"I am not telling you this to push you toward him. You know I wouldn't."

"I know."

"I am telling you because you deserve to grieve the right thing. And so does he."

"Yes."

She finally drinks the whiskey. All of it. Sets the glass down.

"I am going to have to see him."

"I think you should. Hear him out. Say what you truly need to say to him. Be honest and don't hold back."

She nods. Stands. Picks up the envelope. Carries it out of my office like a piece of evidence she still has to figure out what to do with.

***

There's a new regular at the bar.

Dominic. Colt's best friend. He's been here every night for three nights. Bourbon. Good bourbon. He watches the show with the kind of singular focus that usually means trouble.

Specifically, he watches Marisol.

Not how men usually watch Marisol. Not the slack-jawed, entitled ogling I've spent three years training security to redirect. He watches her like a sunset. With reverence and the bewildered awareness of seeing something too beautiful to last.

Tonight Marisol finished her set and went backstage and Dominic is staring into his bourbon like it contains the meaning of life.

"She has a kid." To the glass. Not to me. But I'm the only one here.

"She does."

"How old?"

"Two and a half."

He nods. Stares.

"I don't know what I'm doing."

"That's obvious."

He looks at me. I don't soften it.

"She's not a conquest. She's a single mother with a kid who depends on her. If you're not serious, if this is a phase or a fixation or a rich-guy fantasy about the beautiful dancer, walkaway now. Tonight. Before she notices you enough to be hurt by your leaving."