Mondays at the office always drag, but today has been particularly awful. My secretary cringes when I call her in, and the interns skitter into hiding every time I pop my head out. I’ll be the first to admit I’m not winning any awards in the patience department today and I’ve kicked around the idea of a drink at least five hundred times since my arrival.

The mantra is stuck on repeat in my head. She just left.

No note, no explanation, not even so much as a heads up through the bathroom door. Lola snuck out of my apartment after she demanded my vulnerability like it was owed to her. I can’t help but conclude the two events are related. She got what she thought she wanted, but it turned out to be more than she could handle.

To make matters worse, Jimmy has been chewing my ass out all day via text. Graziela too. I still haven’t texted him back, but I know if I don’t he’ll just show up here. At noon, I finally bite the bullet and call him.

“You are a dipshit,” he says by way of greeting. “You know that, kid?”

“I’m aware,” I mutter.

“Are your goddamn fingers broken?” he asks. “Is that the reason it’s so hard for you to send a simple text message? For your sake, I hope they are because there isn’t a thing on God’s green earth that can save you from Graziela’s wrath now.”

“I’ll be over tonight to give her my apologies.”

“You better bring your A-game,” he says. “Seven o’ clock. And don’t be fucking late.”

The rest of the day is spent marinating in my anger. Lola doesn’t reply to the messages I send, and what a callous little liar she’s turned out to be.

By the time I arrive at Jimmy’s, I’m in no mood to kiss ass, but one look at their faces and it’s exactly what I do. They worry about me, and sometimes I forget that. I can be selfish in that way, but mostly it stems from not ever having anyone around to give a shit about me.

Graziela’s arms are wrapped tightly around her torso, and she doesn’t offer a hug. By all outward appearances, the woman would seem to have an iron will. But even I can’t miss the way her lip trembles when she frets over me.

“I’m sorry.” I bow my head in shame. “I should have called. I fucked up, and it was cruel of me to make you worry.”

“You shouldn’t be alone this time of year.” She fans a hand in front of her face to stop the tears from coming. “We know how hard this month is for you, and we only want to help, Adrian.”

“I know. I’m sorry, Grazi. You deserved more than that from me. You and Jimmy both.”

She makes me suffer in silence for a full minute before she hugs me. “I forgive you, just this one time. But don’t think I’ll forget this. And you better have a good explanation for why you didn’t come.”

Before I can even get into it, Jimmy makes me take a breath test. It’s his standard operating procedure whenever I screw up, which is often. It comes back clear, and they both relax.

“At least you’re still on the straight and narrow,” he says.

“For now.”

Graziela seems concerned by my statement but waits until we sit down to dinner to ask about it. Jimmy gets his own special reserve from a separate pot while I’m gifted the fire and acid Grazi calls stew. She always turns up the heat when she’s angry, and I guess this time she was really fucking angry.

“What is troubling you so much?” she asks. “Tell us why you did not show up.”

“I got a call from Riverdale. They wanted to clean up the old trailer, get rid of it.”

“And?” Jimmy prods.

“I let it go. It was time.”

“You did the right thing,” he assures me.

I nod. Grazi gets up to refill my stew, and I stare longingly at my water glass.

“Is that all?” she asks. “You still seem very troubled.”

“I went to the cemetery too. But I was late, and Lola was angry at me. We both said some things. Honest things. We fought, and then we talked. I thought everything was fine, but she left this morning without an explanation.”

“You need to get over yourself, kid,” Jimmy decides.

I scrub my hands through my hair and close my eyes. I’m fucking drained. And I don’t know if it’s the game with Lola or life in general, but I’m tired of defending myself. But I knew better than to come here asking for sympathy.

“You think you’ve proven yourself just because you haven’t had a drink in one year,” Grazi chimes in. “No, Adrian. If you love this girl, then you will prove yourself every day for the rest of your life.”

Love?

It seems like a strong word. That’s a debate for another time because Jimmy has more to add.

“How many times have you disappointed her? How many times have you called her up sloppy drunk and acted like a dipshit?”

I shrug. It doesn’t matter what I say because I have no defense. They are right, and I know they’re right, but it isn’t what I want to hear right now. “Too many to count.”

“And you still can’t commit to the idea of making a life with her, but you want her to hang around and play the game by your rules.”

“That isn’t it,” I argue. “Lola took me out of the game a long time ago. I’m just trying to—” I stop because the truth is, I have no idea what I’m trying to do anymore.

“She isn’t going through this hell for years because she doesn’t care,” Grazi says. “That is an excuse, Adrian. If you can’t see that she cares for you, it is only your fault.”

I feel a headache coming on, and all I can think about right now is a drink.

“Grazi’s right,” Jimmy declares. “You think you two have some complicated relationship because of Ryan, but it’s only as complicated as you make it. If the two of you don’t pull your heads out of your asses and stop using that as an excuse to hold each other at arm’s length, it’s going to be the thing that tears you apart.”

It’s scary sometimes how perceptive Jimmy can be. His words have so much truth to them that I don’t waste my breath trying to argue.

“Either love her or let her go,” he tells me. “That’s the way it has to be, kid. You’ve been going in circles for years with this girl. If you can’t step up and be the man that she deserves, then you need to let her be with someone who will.”

I don’t like the sound of that, and he knows it.

“Truth hurts.” He shrugs.

With that final blow, I lay my napkin on the table and stand up. “Thank you for dinner, Grazi. But I need to get back to work.”

It isn’t an insult to them. It’s my way of tapping out when I’ve had enough. When I come here, I always get the truth. Sometimes, like tonight, it isn’t an easy one to swallow. But Jimmy and Grazi know I’ll always be back. Without them, I’d still be trying to drown my troubles at the bottom of a whiskey bottle.

“Next week,” Grazi says before I go. “Same day and time. Don’t be late, Adrian.”

“I’ll be in to check on you before then,” Jimmy adds.

I nod.

They can see me slipping. I don’t want to disappoint them, but sometimes I think that’s all I’m capable of.