We arrived at the Onyx Bar twenty minutes ago, and I still can’t get my ass out of the car. I’m staring out the window, my gaze fixed on the lit-up sign above the front door.

It’s been three years since I’ve been inside a bar or touched a drop of alcohol. But time doesn’t erase memories of the bite of booze on my tongue, the burn as it traveled down my throat, and the fire in my belly. After all these years, I still miss the feeling of taking a break from life, unaware of my problems.

Dominick clears his throat. “Sir, would you like me to drive you back home?”

“No, Dominick. I’m here to meet a friend.” I push open the door. “I won’t be long.”

Outside the car, I slam the door shut and move toward The Onyx. Maybe this isn’t a good idea. I should have suggested to Mitch that we meet someplace else. I was actually surprised that he would suggest a bar as a meeting place when he knows I’m a recovering addict. No matter. I’ve been strong for this long. I can handle one evening inside a bar.

Before I reach the door, a woman holding a crying baby approaches me.

“Do you have a dollar, sir? My baby needs milk.”

Without taking my eyes off the bar’s front door, I pull out my wallet and hand her a few notes without bothering to count them. “For the baby.”

“Thank you. Thank you, sir. You are a good man.” She shuffles away fast. I’ve given her a lot of money, and she doesn’t want to give me a chance to change my mind.

A man and a woman burst out of the bar, laughing loudly. I step aside to let them pass. The smell of booze they leave behind makes me pause to inhale.

Fuck, Lance, pull yourself together. You’re stronger than this.

I am strong. If I were going to drink again, I would have done so after Alice died, leaving my world in pieces. But I didn’t. I resisted the temptation.

I clench my jaw tight and catch the door before it closes. The sounds of booze-induced happiness and laughter welcome me with open arms.

My lungs cough up the smoke that shoots down my nostrils and burns my eyes. A few more steps into the dim room and I adjust.

I spot Mitch immediately, sitting at a table in a corner with a bronze hanging lamp above it. As usual, he’s wearing one of the denim shirts he loved in school.

At seeing me, he gets to his feet and starts waving. I weave my way through the smoke.

It’s not too late to turn back before temptation seduces me into having a taste of the good stuff, for old time’s sake. We could talk in the car. No, I’m not about to make a fool of myself. I nod at him and continue to move forward.

“Mitch,” I say over the sound of a rock n’ roll number from the 80s. “Great to see you, man.”

“Good to see you too. How have you been?” He claps me on the back and pulls out a chair. “Have a seat.” He tries to hold my arm as I sink into the chair, but I wave him away.

“Sorry.” He drops into his own chair. “I thought …”

I settle in my chair and lean the cane against the wall. “I’m not as weak as I look, you know. I no longer need help.”

Mitch nods. “I’m glad to hear that. You look great.” He glances at a waitress with a skirt so short it’s wrong to call it one. “Should we order something to drink?” The moment the last word leaves his mouth, his hand meets his forehead. “Shit, I’m so sorry. I totally forgot that—”

“No need to apologize. Don’t worry. I can be in the same room as booze without drinking … again.”

“Still, I’m sorry.” He grabs his wallet from the table and rises. “We could go somewhere else if you like. It’s really not a problem.”

“Sit, Mitch. We’re not going anywhere. It’s been years. If I wanted to drink, I would have by now.”

The reason I didn’t turn to alcohol when Alice died, the reason I ignored the devil’s call, has everything to do with the little girl she left behind. The little girl who gives me the motivation to get up each morning. I haven’t let my daughter down in three years. I won’t start tonight.

“I admire you, Lance LaClaire.” Mitch falls back into his chair and leans forward. A lock of auburn hair sweeps his forehead. “Many people wouldn’t have made it through the challenges you were confronted with.”

“Good thing I’m not many people, then.”

“Damn right, you’re not.” Mitch laughs. “You’re still an inspiration to many.”

“I don’t see myself as one. I just do what has to be done.”

“Including walking again?”

I thrust out my chest and laugh. “I got bored with being in a chair, so I got out of it.”

Mitch joins in the laughter and leans back. He’s about to say something when a bar waitress with a piece of fabric for a skirt comes over to our table. Her hair is the same color as the bronze hanging lamp. She runs a hand through it and pulls out her little notepad.

“What can I get you, gentlemen?” She flashes us a bright smile, her silver lip ring glinting in the light.

Mitch orders a beer, but he changes his mind and decides to go for water instead.

“Most definitely not.” I shoot him a look. “Come on, Mitch. Have what you really want.” I move my gaze to the bar waitress. “Forget the water. He’ll have a Budweiser.”

Mitch leans back with a smile but says nothing.

“How about you, sir?”

“A tonic water for me, thanks.”

She nods and walks away to get our drinks.

“You’re getting married again, huh?” Mitch says. “I think that’s fantastic. I’m happy for you.”

“Yeah, I met another great woman.”

“You’re one of the lucky few to find true love twice in one lifetime.” He picks up his phone from the table and glances at it before putting it back down. “You mentioned over the phone that you need my help with something.”

“I do.” I tap my fingers on the table.

I’m grateful when the waitress returns with our drinks, giving me time to prepare for what I’m about to do to Jia.

Mitch takes a long drink, watching me over the rim of the glass. He lowers it to the table and swipes a hand across his mouth. “So, what can I do for you?”

I decide to bite the bullet. I’ve come this far. “I have a feeling my fiancée is keeping something from me. I want to know what it is.”

Mitch takes another drink. “Why don’t you just talk to her?”

“It’s complicated.” I lift my own glass to my lips. The soda is cold against my tongue. “Are you going to help me or not?”

“Of course, I’ll help you. I want to make sure this is really what you want.”

“I’m here, aren’t I?” I grab a napkin and dab the sweat from my brow. “Look, I’m sorry. I’m having a bad day. I shouldn’t take it out on you.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Mitch cracks a knuckle. “Is it just a feeling, or did you find some kind of evidence that your fiancée is hiding something?”

“Both.”

“What do you think she’s hiding? Do you think she’s—”

“Cheating on me?” I scratch the back of my neck. “No, I don’t think so. It’s something else.” God, let it be something else. Before Mitch can feed me more doubts, I tell him everything.

Mitch raises an eyebrow. “What if she’s using the money to create some kind of surprise for you? A wedding present, maybe?”

“I doubt it. If she needed money for other things, she could have come to me. Find out what’s really going on. I have a bad feeling.”

Mitch pulls out a notepad and jots a few things down. “It’s my job to make your worries go away. But as a friend, I have to tell you that when I dig around, there’s no telling what I might find. I could find something you don’t like.”

“I’m well aware of that, Mitch. I know what your job entails.”

“I’m honored that you trust me to do this job for you. I’ll see what I can do. I just need a few more details.”

I respond to his request by telling him everything he might need to get me the information I need: Jia’s address and phone number, her date of birth, and other details from her childhood that might help him do his job better.

Mitch raises his beer to his lips and takes a huge gulp. “Good. I’ve got what I need for now.” He drains his glass. “If I need anything else, I’ll let you know. I do hope I don’t find anything that worries you more.”

“I’d rather know than be left in the dark,” I say and finish my drink as well. “Thanks, Mitch.”

“That’s what I’m here for.”

We order more drinks, but this time we talk about our school days, and then Mitch takes his leave as he has another appointment to get to.

I remain in the Onyx for another half an hour, nursing my third glass of tonic water. Once the glass is empty, I sit back in my chair.

The waitress appears to ask if I want anything else. I shake my head and ask for the check. I still stay at the table after paying for my drinks and Mitch’s beers. My eyes are on the glinting bottles at the nearby bar. In spite of my resistance, I find myself wondering how it would feel to open one of the bottles, to lift it to my lips, to swallow the hot liquid. Maybe it won’t be so bad. Maybe a taste won’t change a thing.

Instantly my AA counselor’s raspy voice cuts through my thoughts, telling me it would be a bad idea, that I’ve made too much progress to throw it all away.

To a recovering alcoholic, one drop of booze is like a bullet. One single bullet has the power to cause irreversible damage.

Feeling like a fool for even considering drinking again, I grab my cane and get the hell out. I leave behind the temptation, taking my desire to drink back home with me.

I find Rose already in bed, smelling of bubble gum shampoo. She stirs when I press a kiss to her forehead and lie down next to her. I close my eyes and listen to her breathing. That’s all I need. She’s better than any AA meeting.

When she lets out a gentle snore, I smile, the desire to drink fading away like an unwanted friend. Rose is all I need to make it through anything. When I slip out of her room a few minutes later, I promise myself that from now on, I’ll stay the hell away from bars. I thought I was strong enough to resist a taste of the past, but I came dangerously close to giving in.

Whatever comes my way, I’ll handle it without the help of booze.