Page 41 of The Marriage Playbook

He had chosen beer today, a part of him instinctively leaning into the hope that he wouldn’t turn into a complete mess. How badly could you really behave when you were only drinking beer? It helped, too, that it was early in the afternoon. The place wasn’t full of people looking to party. It was full of people who shared his mood. Sad folks who didn’t have anywhere better to be. And in fact, saying full was a stretch. There were two men over in the corner, neither of them speaking, and other than that the place was a ghost town.

It made Liam sick to count himself among them. His life had been so idyllic.

Everything had fallen apart so quickly.

There was a TV in the corner over the bar. Thankfully, it was playing a baseball game, so he didn’t have to think too hard about his own specific losses. But watching baseball was hard too, in a way he hadn’t anticipated, because these players were enough like him to make him ache. They had found the place where they belonged. He could imagine how it felt to step up to the plate and to swing your bat, to feel it connect with a ball and send it flying into the stands. It must be the same as the feeling of a perfect pass sailing right into your hands.

He took another drink. It was the last of his beer.

“Another round?” the bartender asked with a sympathetic smile.

Liam couldn’t quite bring himself to return her smile. “You must think I’m a real piece of work, sitting here knocking them back in the middle of the afternoon like this.”

“Believe me, I’ve seen a whole lot worse,” she chuckled. “Besides, I always had a feeling the press was wrong about you, Liam—is it okay to call you Liam?”

He looked up. “I didn’t know you’d recognized me.”

“Oh, sure. My ex was a huge Stingers fan,” she said. “That’s honestly the only good thing that came out of that relationship. Now I’m a big fan too. I thought it was crazy that they cut you from the team.”

Warmth filled him. “I knew there had to be at least one sane person left in the world.”

The bartender laughed. “I’m Megan.”

“Liam. Well, but you know that.”

She beamed. “It’s so cool to meet you. Jack would be so jealous. I wish I could tell him, but I’m not speaking to that…” She gritted her teeth and shook her head. “I should watch my language while I’m at work.”

“You could take a picture and post it on your socials,” he suggested, knowing perfectly well what Cara would think of that idea. “Then he’ll probably see it.”

“He unfriended me.”

“I’m sure he still looks,” Liam said. “You’re hot. There’s no way he isn’t searching you every now and then.”

She flushed happily at the compliment. He’d meant it, too. She was very cute. She was short, with an oval-shaped face and a spattering of freckles, pale skin and bright blue eyes, dark hair. In every way the opposite of Cara.

Now he was thinking of Cara. Her thick, strawberry blond hair. Her long limbs, wrapped around him. The way her chin dug into his shoulder when they embraced.

He didn’t want to think about her.

He cleared his throat. “Go ahead and take the picture.”

She turned her back to him and leaned in. “You’re sure this is okay?”

“Absolutely.” He was checking himself out on her phone screen, and he was pleased to see that the day’s events didn’t appear to have taken a physical toll on him. He looked fine. Normal. He smiled for the camera, and she took the picture.

“This is so cool,” she enthused, moving away and tapping at her phone screen. “I’ll just post it in a couple of places, okay? And I’m writing Guess who came into the bar! Is that fine?”

“Totally fine.” Cara was going to be pissed. But Liam sort of liked that, actually. Let her see what he was doing. She’d probably decide that there was no way he could handle himself without her help, and she would be completely shocked when nothing at all bad happened here. It was obvious now that he wasn’t going to get thrown out of this bar.

Megan posted the picture and tucked her phone back into the pocket of her apron. “Awesome,” she said. “Can I get you a drink on the house, for that?”

“Definitely not,” Liam told her. “There’s no way I could accept that kind of generosity. But if you’re willing, I’d love you to have one with me. Are you allowed to do that?”

“At my discretion.” She grinned. “And I don’t mind. It’s not that often someone asks me to share a drink in here.” She jerked her head toward the barflies Liam had noticed. “Those two won’t speak to me. They’ll sit there all night and not say a word. It’s nice to have someone a little more lively in here.”

She poured herself a beer, and a fresh one for Liam. “To our exes,” she suggested, raising her glass.

“So I guess that means you saw the article about me online today?”