CHAPTER 8
By the time Luke unwrapped the sweat-drenched bands from his hands, he had a firm, simple plan for the morning. Basically he’d rap on Annie’s front door and ask, or demand, anything she knew about Dr. Neal.
But in reality, as soon as Annie appeared from behind her door the next morning, he lost his nerve. There was a part of him ashamed he could be suspicious of Natalie. She’d never given him any reason to doubt her while she was alive. Then there was another part of him, a small but significant part, that worried he’d been made to look the fool.
Not sure how to bring up such a sensitive topic, Luke avoided his plan altogether, walking around in a fog, grouchy and preoccupied.
Yet he had to do something. He considered calling Dr. Neal’s number, the one that seemed to mock him every time he opened the phone. Or he could use his advanced tech skills and try to get access to the deleted texts on the phone. Or he could go to dinner with Annie and Brian like Annie had begged him to do for a week. There, he could find an opportunity to ask some of the questions he needed answers to. Dinner seemed like the least insane of the options.
Luke smelled of cologne and was wearing a pair of jeans with a belt. He balanced on a wobbly barstool in a somewhat seedy bar while Jessie was at home with the kids. Will was technically old enough to watch May and Clayton, but Luke never felt comfortable leaving him with them for very long, at least when bedtime was an issue. Clayton and May gave Luke a hard enough time going to bed every night; he wasn’t going to make his fourteen-year-old son take over that responsibility. He’d rather pay Jessie to do it. Maybe he should pay her to do it every night?
He took another swig of his beer, wondering if it was the alcohol or the silence helping him relax. He didn’t drink often, always afraid he would follow his father down that slippery slope, but tonight he thought it was a good risk to take. Somewhere between the beer and pure desperation, he hoped to finally find the courage to talk to Annie about Natalie’s professor.
Luke was there early, waiting for the Gurrellas at the bar. He watched Annie’s face as she walked in the door and noticed Jose and Tanner, cops about ten years Brian’s junior, hanging out at a table with two pitchers of beer and a plate of wings. She dropped Brian’s hand and pulled off her plum-colored winter coat. She was wearing a black skirt and gauzy white top that plunged in the front and was tucked in at the waist. When Brian went over to see his friends before meeting Luke at the bar, she seemed disappointed but not surprised.
“Hey!” Annie called across the bar after hanging up her coat next to Brian’s on the coatrack. Luke returned the gesture as she headed toward the stool beside him. In his past life, Luke would be with Brian playing Golden Tee with Jose and Tanner from the station, while Annie and Natalie caught up over a few drinks. But tonight he wasn’t there for guy time; he was there to talk to Annie. She sat down beside him, bumping shoulders.
“Hey there.” She smiled before dragging a coaster in front of her and signaling to the bartender. “I’m glad you came out with us tonight.”
“Yeah, it feels strange. Thanks for letting me tag along.”
“I think it’s more like we’re the tagalongs here.” She tipped her head toward Brian, Tanner, and Jose, who were harassing each other over the video game.
The bartender made his way across the bar to Annie. He wore a tight black shirt with his sleeves rolled up unnecessarily high, showing off his biceps. Luke thought he came off as trying a little too hard, but maybe that’s how he got good tips. When he rested his eyes on Annie, the man flexed his pecs noticeably. Luke rolled his eyes.
“How can I help you?” the bartender asked, deepening his voice a fraction.
“Just a Diet Coke, please.” Annie didn’t seem to notice the bartender’s attentions. She tapped her fingers on the lacquered wood of the bar.
“You want me to slip a little rum in that Diet Coke?” The bartender wiggled his eyebrows.
“Uh, no, thank you. Designated driver.” She reached across Luke and grabbed the dark-brown bottle from the coaster in front of him, put it to her mouth, and took two long swigs before smacking her lips and replacing it. Luke used to watch Natalie and Annie share drinks. But he was not Natalie. Sometimes Luke wondered if Annie remembered that.
The bartender gave a hearty laugh. “I don’t think that’s how being a designated driver works, but, okay. Diet Coke it is.” He placed the drink in front of Annie and dropped a clear straw in her drink. “My name’s Mick. Call me if you want something stronger.”
“Thanks.” Annie took a long sip from her own drink before turning to face Luke, ignoring Mick completely. “So. How’re things going? You guys like Jessie?”
Luke nodded. “She’s a quirky one. A few days ago I came home to May singing ‘It’s the Hard Knock Life’ while mopping the kitchen floor. Jessie was directing her while singing along. Both were so off-key I’m sure dogs were howling.”
“Oh my. I wish I could’ve seen that.”
“Yeah, it was the least effective floor mopping I’ve ever seen, but May was glowing. Honestly”—Luke took a quick sip of his beer, running through Natalie’s description of Jessie in his mind—“she’s not exactly what I was expecting; sometimes she seems to live in a Broadway fantasy world. But the kids love her, even Will. Do you know Will does his homework every night now?”
Annie swirled the ice around with her straw. “Really? That’s great.”
“Yup, and I don’t even have to nag him to do it. It’s done by the time I get home.”
“He seemed almost happy when we texted last week. I was starting to think you’d finally taken him to a therapist or something.” She bumped Luke’s shoulder again. She’d been bugging Luke to take the kids to a counselor ever since it became apparent that Natalie wasn’t going to get better.
“Well, if the therapist’s name is Jessie, then yes, you were right.” He shifted in his seat again, the uneven legs making a ticking sound as they bounced off the waxed tile floor. “Actually I have an appointment for him next week.”
“You do? Good for you. You’re a good daddy.”
“Well, I wouldn’t go that far.” He couldn’t help but smile a little. It felt strange on his face and reminded him of why he was really there. Luke checked on Brian. He was still playing video games and refilling his second or third mug with beer. “Listen”—Luke lowered his voice—“I need to talk to you about something.”
Annie tilted her head and leaned it against her fist, all hints of amusement gone from her face. “What’s up?”
The nervousness returned. Why did he think this was a useful idea? He took another sip of his beer, hoping the alcohol would do its job and make him a little less inhibited. But when he put the bottle down and looked up and met Annie’s soft green eyes, the words he’d planned out so carefully disappeared. He glanced away, focusing on a long line of flavored syrups with gold pumps sticking out the top. If he didn’t look right at her, he might be able to get the words out.
“Did Natalie ever mention a guy named Dr. Neal to you? Her professor or something?” He said it quickly and picked at the corner of the yellow and gold label on his beer instead of meeting her gaze again.
“Hmm. Dr. Neal?” Annie tapped her teeth like she did when she was thinking.
Luke got up the nerve to look at her again. Thankfully she was staring up at the ceiling, like the dingy yellow tiles held the answer to his question. She kept tapping her teeth nervously. “I don’t remember a Dr. Neal. I do remember a Pastor Neal though.”
“Pastor Neal?” A piece of the label ripped off in Luke’s fingertips, sticking under his nail. He shook it on the floor. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah. I’m positive. I swear Nat said he was a pastor.” Annie ran a hand through her short blonde bob. “I came over one morning and he was there, sitting by her bed. She introduced us.”
“He was in my house?” Luke choked mid-drink and wiped the back of his hand across his mouth before continuing. “You met him?”
“I did.” Annie patted his back as he gave one more cough. “Why? What’s wrong?”
Luke opened his mouth to answer but didn’t know what to say. What was wrong? What could he say that wouldn’t sound paranoid and disloyal to his wife and Annie’s best friend? This man had been in his house when he wasn’t home, a man he’d never met, a man his wife had never mentioned . . . till now. A man who kept turning up everywhere he looked.
Luke dropped his face into his hands, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands. Annie’s pats turned into large circles on his back.
“Oh, Luke, I’m sorry. This was too soon.”
“No. It’s not that.” He wiped his fingers around the edges of his eyes to catch any escaping moisture. “It’s the beer. I think it’s making me emotional.”
“What has you all worried about this Neal guy?” Annie settled back on her stool, staring at the side of Luke’s face.
He finished off the last few drops of beer in his bottle, putting the empty on the coaster in front of him. “His number was in Nat’s phone. I’d never heard of him before, but then there was this letter . . .”
Annie shook her head like she was editing herself. “Fine.” She held out her hands. “So, what did she say to freak you out like this?”
Luke didn’t know how to explain it. There was nothing specific in her letter or even in her phone that made him concerned. It was more the lack of something.
“Nothing really. He helped her out of a bad situation at school. The thing is, Natalie and I didn’t keep secrets from each other, and I thought she didn’t keep secrets from you. Look, she even lied about who he was when you met him. Why would she do that?”
Annie spun the straw around in her drink—no quick answer or pat on the back this time. The ice clinked against the glass, loud in the silence between them.
“Okay, I don’t have an answer for that one. But come on, Luke, don’t be an idiot.” She placed her hand on his crossed arm, fingers cold from holding the frosty glass. “Natalie loved you. She’d never do anything to hurt you. What? Do you think they were having an”—she paused and looked around to make sure no one was listening before whispering—“affair?”
The word made a heavy, nauseous feeling settle in his chest. Did he think Natalie had had a real-life affair with this man? It was almost impossible trying to imagine her sneaking around to sleep with another man. But it didn’t matter; their mystery connection made him feel almost as uncomfortable as the idea of an intimate connection.
“I don’t really know what to think. That’s why I wanted to talk to you about it.”
Annie put her hand on his forearm. He stared at her long thin fingers, nails painted a delicate shade of pink. They were nothing like Natalie’s, but somehow it gave him a similar kind of comfort.
“Think about it this way—when would she even have had time to have an affair? She was too busy with you and the kids and school and, oh, I don’t know, maybe . . . cancer.”
Annie was right. How was he worried that Natalie was having an affair when she was weak, nauseous, bald, and living each day scared of dying? The situation suddenly struck him as ludicrous. “Oh, I’m such an asshole.” He shook his head, half laughing. “Okay, I needed to hear that, Annie.”
“Well, if you liked it that much, next time I can slap you.” She smacked his forearm hard enough to sting.
“Ouch!”
“Come on; you deserved it.”
“Fine.” He laughed. “I deserved it. Now unless you intend to get violent again, I’m going to use the restroom.” He stood, letting her hand fall off his arm but caught it in his before it hit her leg. “Thank you for always knowing the right thing to say.”
“It’s not hard; I just tell the truth.” She gave his hand a squeeze and let go. “You want another?” she asked, tipping her head toward his empty beer bottle.
“I’m driving so I’d better not.”
“I’m not drinking tonight so others may enjoy themselves more thoroughly,” she proclaimed and gave a semibow, laughing. “Don’t let me waste all that on Brian. I’ll take you home, and we can grab your car in the morning.”
Luke bounced the idea around in his mind. He was feeling looser.
“All right, one more.” Luke held up his index finger, heading to the rear of the bar, where a glowing red sign blinked RESTROOMS. Pushing past a swinging door, he flicked on the cold water and threw some on his face. The chill of the water stung his skin and gave him a slight brain freeze but also felt so refreshing. Three handfuls later, he ran his wet fingers through his hair. It was getting longer than he was used to, but a haircut was one of the least important things on his to-do list.
Between his hair and the fluorescent lights, Luke was surprised at how old he looked. His irises were vividly blue, but that was only because the bloodshot whites of his eyes made them stand out. His perma-stubble was so light he wasn’t sure if it was blond or white. But it was the circles under his eyes that made him look hollow and old. Natalie wouldn’t even recognize him.
He missed her so much it hurt. Two days without reading her letters, and she seemed farther away than ever. Yanking seven or eight paper towels from the dispenser, Luke dried his face, dumped them into the garbage, and then stared at his reflection. Annie was right—he was being an idiot. Forget the beer sitting on the bar waiting for him; he needed to go home, open Natalie’s most recent letters, and bring her back to him.
Luke marched out of the restroom, double-checking his pockets for keys. He’d say good-bye and thank you to Annie and go. She’d understand. She always understood.
Approaching the bar, Luke noticed the bartender, Mick, standing in front of Annie. Luke’s open beer sat on the counter, and Mick was leaning over it doing that annoying flexing thing, taking obvious glances at Annie’s breasts.
Luke searched the room for Brian, hoping to signal him in to rescue Annie. He located him quickly at a table a few feet from the bar, but to Luke’s surprise, Brian was casually watching the interaction between Annie and Mick. Next to him sat his severely buzzed buddies. He didn’t look concerned at all. In fact, he was laughing.
Annie leaned away from the bar, glancing around the room, arms crossed tightly around her chest, giving obvious signs of disinterest, but Mick didn’t seem to notice. When he reached across the bar to tuck a piece of hair behind Annie’s ear, Luke had seen enough. He took three long strides across the room and dragged the barstool out loudly, the rubber stoppers scraping the floor.
“Sorry I took so long. You okay?” Luke plopped down, pretending Mick wasn’t standing there ogling Natalie’s best friend’s body parts. Annie met Luke’s gaze, and the tension in her shoulders disappeared instantly.
“Sure thing.” She flashed a smile that looked like relief. “Glad you found your way back. I was about to send in a rescue team.”
Luke laughed as heartily as he could muster, putting on a show for Mick, who was still standing there. When would this guy take a hint?
“Hey, beautiful, my shift’s almost over,” Mick interjected, his voice deepening in what Luke could only guess was an attempt at sexy. “Can I buy you a drink or something? My place is only a few minutes from here, and my bar is well stocked.”
Brian let out a loud “Hah!” behind them. The amount of entertainment he was getting from his wife’s distress was starting to irritate Luke. He took Brian for the protective type, not an unfeeling lout.
“Thanks, but like I already told you, I’m married.”
“And like I told you, I don’t buy it. No ring? At a bar?” He grabbed her bare left hand and lifted it up into the light. She snapped it away, blushing.
“I was doing the dishes and forgot to put it back on,” she explained to Luke, like he should care.
“What? Are you married to this guy?” Mick stood tall, like he was trying to show how much more of a man he was than Luke.
“No,” Annie and Luke said in unison.
“He’s my best friend’s hus—” Annie cut herself off. Looking at Luke, her forehead wrinkled. “Actually, he’s my friend,” she corrected herself.
He’d never thought of Annie as anything other than Natalie’s best friend. He had plenty of casual friendships, but the only real, meaningful friendship he’d ever been able to maintain was with Natalie. Growing up isolated by abuse and then again by foster care, he’d never learned how to lean on anyone but himself. Yet if he looked closely at the past three months, she was right. Annie had become his friend. She might be his only real friend.
“Sooooo.” Mick broke into Luke’s moment of realization. “I got this thing right after all.” He stared pointedly at the empty spot on Annie’s hand where her solitaire usually sat. “You stand behind a bar long enough, and you get to a point where you can read people pretty well. I pick up on things.”
“Yeah, totally FBI material, Mick,” Annie joked, flipping her hair before taking a long drink from her diet soda.
Luke had to work hard not to laugh. Mick, as was becoming habit, didn’t notice the sarcastic lilt to her voice.
“You think so?” Mick ran a hand over his chest. “I’ve definitely got the body for it.”
Luke was done trying to let Mick down easy. This guy needed a dose of honesty.
“Listen.” He snapped his fingers in front of Mick’s face. “She’s clearly not interested. Leave the poor woman alone.”
“Uh, I don’t think you know if she’s interested or not, so back off.”
Annie cleared her throat, catching Mick’s attention. “I’m not interested. Sorry. And I am married. See that guy back there, the one who’s been playing Golden Tee for the past hour? That’s my husband, Officer Brian Gurrella, and a few of his work friends.”
Luke piled on. “Maybe you’d like to chat with them about your interest in law enforcement. I can call them over if you’d like.” He turned as if to wave at Brian and his friends. Mick checked out the group of heavily muscled men hovering around a table covered in half-empty mugs of beer.
“No, no.” He backed away from the bar, almost bumping into the bottles of hard liquor behind him, finally finding someone intimidating enough to back off. “I’m good. Uh, looks like you need a refill.” Mick pointed at Annie’s empty glass, seeming almost professional. “My shift’s over, but I’ll send Stacey with one for you.”
“Sounds great; thanks, Mick,” Luke added, finding Mick’s reaction to rejection far too entertaining.
When Mick disappeared through the flapping doors, mumbling something under his breath about them being assholes, Annie let out a loud whoop and offered Luke a high-five. He put up his hand, and she slapped it so hard it tingled.
“That was awesome.” She was beaming—nothing left of the shy, intimidated woman he’d attempted to “save” a few minutes earlier. “I’ve never had the guts to do that before. Brian thinks I’m a wimp. I hope he was watching.”
When she mentioned his name, Brian poked his head between the two of them, reeking of beer and at least a few shots of whiskey.
“Thanks a bunch, Luke. You lost me fifty bucks. I bet those losers she’d run away and cry before she’d get him to back off.” He smacked Luke on the shoulder and gave Annie a brief kiss on the top of her head. “I think the bet should be off since you stuck your nose in there and scared the guy away.”
“Hey!” Annie protested. “I think I did pretty great. And not one tear.” She shrugged off Brian’s arm in mock disgust. Luke was about to join in on the whole strange but playful banter when he caught sight of Annie’s reflection in the mirror over the bar. Her face was smooth, eyes hard and unblinking. There wasn’t any of the bouncing laughter that filled the words she spoke. In fact, the only thing he could easily identify in her features was desperation. Luke cringed.
Brian didn’t see her face, didn’t know he was embarrassing his wife. Or that by sitting back and watching Mick hit on her, he’d made Annie feel insignificant.
“I’m giving you a hard time, Luke.” Brian stood and slapped both of them on opposite shoulders. “You ladies keep enjoying your girls’ night out. The boys are itching to play darts, and I gotta win some of my money back.” He eyed Luke like he was checking his credentials. “You can join us if you want to, man. We always like fresh blood.”
Luke knew Brian got better at darts when he was drunk, and the other two would soon be throwing like twelve-year-olds. He considered for a moment how easy it would be for him to dominate them all at darts and make a little money. Then he checked on Annie’s unchanged reflection.
“No, thanks. You guys have fun.” He waved at Tanner and Jose, who were divvying up the darts by color. “You can give me your money another time.”
“You wish,” Brian said as he walked away.
“You okay?” Luke whispered once Brian was hefting his first dart toward a plastic board. Did Annie and Natalie ever talk about their husbands together? They must have—isn’t that what girlfriends do? Now Luke and Annie were friends—it was official—but Luke definitely wasn’t ready to dispense relationship advice.
“I’m fine.” She took a deep shaky breath before putting on a bright smile. It looked real enough to him. Then Luke had a startling thought: What if he’d never seen Annie’s real smile? She turned her barstool around and watched the game of darts from a distance as though she was actually interested. “You can leave if you want; I wouldn’t blame you.”
Luke hesitated. Before Mick and all his slick moves, he was planning to find an excuse to jump in his car and make it home before The Late Late Show came on. The only reason he’d come tonight was to pump Annie for information. She didn’t have any more to tell him.
As Luke turned his stool around to match hers, he crossed one foot over his knee and leaned against the bar behind him. Annie wasn’t some object he could take out and use every once in a while when it suited him and then put in a closet when he was done.
He wasn’t going to use her like Mick wanted to, or ditch her like Brian had.
“Nope. I’m staying,” Luke said before taking a long drink of his nearly warm beer. “But since it doesn’t look like we are going to get Brian out of here in time for our reservations at Bistro 16, I think we should order some food. Do they even have food at this dive . . . I mean, this incredibly classy facility?”
“Oh, for sure.” Annie laughed. “Their specialty is a delicacy from France. I think it’s called french fries.” She put on a horrible fake French accent. Luke chuckled.
“Sounds very exotic.”
“You’ll never look at French cuisine the same again. I promise.” Annie waved at the young woman dressed in black who had replaced Mick behind the counter. As the girl headed over, Luke watched Annie stare at her hands.
“Um,” she said, pausing like she was gathering her thoughts. “Thank you for coming to my rescue. I’m really glad you came out with us tonight.” Annie had flawless skin; high, well-defined cheekbones; and a body that was well sculpted by a natural athleticism and hours in the gym. Natalie used to joke that she felt like an Oompa-Loompa beside her fine-boned best friend, which Luke would laugh off with an extra long kiss and smack on the behind. Annie was definitely not his type, but right now, sitting at the bar with her mouth turned up a little at the corners, curving softly—something inside him stirred; he had a sudden urge to reach out and touch the delicate wrinkles settling around her lips.
“Hey, that’s what friends are for,” he joked, looking away. What the hell was he doing thinking about Annie? He was missing Natalie—that had to be it.
Luke found lots of interesting things to focus on in the bar—flashing lights, Brian’s winning streak at darts, the guy in the corner who kept playing “Back in Black” on the jukebox. He looked everywhere but at her. Yet no matter how hard he tried to avoid it, Luke found himself waiting for another view of her subtle smile. When he did catch her once or twice smiling at a joke or story, he’d wonder if this time it was real.