Mason

It figures it would stop pouring the second I get in here. The bar is packed and the cacophony of guests chatting and glasses clinking welcome me. I can get lost in the crowds. I know the people here see me, but they don’t know me.

This bar in particular is one of my favorites. It’s always full. Its tufted leather seats are constantly filled, and the warm rich tones of the wooden ceiling and brick walls make it feel like home somehow.

My suit is nothing fancy, nothing that will stand out in here. Which is how I want it. I run my fingers through my hair and shake away the rain as I shrug off my jacket and toss it over the barstool at the very end.

It’s been a long day and the last thing I need is to go home alone. As soon as my eyes lift, the bartender is on me. I think her name is Patricia. She’s in here every weekend.

“Whiskey?” she asks me. She never stops moving, shoveling ice into short glasses and pouring liquor like a pro. Unlike the other women in here, she’s not looking for a man with deep pockets. She doesn’t do chitchat either, which is another reason I like sitting in this section. The biggest reason is that it’s out of the way, somewhere I can simply blend in and watch.

“Double,” I answer her with a nod and slip my cell phone out from my jacket pocket. I’ve only been gone from the office for two hours, but I’ve got a dozen emails waiting for my attention. A huff of a grunt leaves me as a text from Liam pops up.

You coming out tonight?

Already out, I answer him as the glass hits the polished bar top and Patricia slides it over to me.

My phone pings as I lift the tumbler to my lips and let the cool liquor burn all the way down, warming my chest.

Where at?

I contemplate telling him. I like Liam. A lot. If I had any friends, he’d be one of them. But and after talking to my father today, I don’t want to be around a damn soul.

A sarcastic laugh makes me grin as I realize I’ve come to a crowded bar to be alone. It’s the truth, though. You’re always surrounded by people in this city; there’s never a place to hide unless it’s in plain sight.

I down the rest of my drink and tap the heavy glass against the bar top as I consider what to tell him. That’s when I hear it. Almost as if daring me to stay alone any longer, it’s the gentle sound of a feminine laugh. It’s genuine and it rings out clear in the bar even though it’s soft.

It’s a soothing sound, a calming force in the chaos that surrounds us. Everything around me fades except for the woman who uttered that sweet sound.

The smooth glass stays still as I look down the bar in search of her.

The rest of the crowd doesn’t seem to notice as they continue with whatever the hell they’re saying and doing, but my eyes are drawn to my left. Through the throng of people, I just barely get a glimpse of her.

Dark brunette hair that’s pulled back; pale skin covered in black lace.

A man at the opposite end leans away from the bar, digging in his back pocket for his wallet and giving me a clear view of her.

Those dark red lips attract my gaze first. She licks her bottom lip before picking up a large glass of deep red wine. The color matches her lips perfectly. She smiles at something and her shoulders shake as she laughs, making the dark liquid swirl in her glass and bringing a blush to her high cheekbones.

She tosses her hair to the side and her fingers tease the ends as she brings her tendrils over one shoulder, wrapping them around her finger while she sips her wine.

It’s when she looks away from whomever she’s been giving her attention to that my curiosity is piqued.

Without their eyes on her, her expression morphs into something else. I finally see her eyes, the lightest of blues, and that’s when I really see her. Not just the image of what she’s portraying.

Pain is clear as day.

It’s the lie though, how fucking good she was at hiding it, that’s what really gets me. Even I was fooled.

People can hide behind a smile or a laugh; every soul in here can pretend to be someone and something they’re not.

The truth is always there though and I’m damn good at recognizing it. Your eyes can never hide two things: age and emotion. Hers speak to me in a way nothing else can.

But had I never looked just then when she thought no one was watching, she never would have shown me willingly.

She straightens her back and I see her profile, her expression. The corners of my lips turn down. Not only do I know her pain, I know her name. I know everything about her.

Julia Summers.

My blood chills as she turns back to the table, the smile on her face slipping back into position just as the man at the end of the bar steps forward, obscuring her from my vision. As if the moment of clarity and recognition was just for me in that moment. Like fate wanted me to know how close I was to her.

I keep my eyes on the bar, doing my best to listen, but her voice is silent or lost in the mix of chatter throughout the crowded place.

“Another?” Patricia’s voice sounds close, closer than she usually is. I lift my head to see her standing right in front of me, both hands on the bar and waiting.

I nod my head with my brows pinched, shaking off the mix of emotions. This city is a small place with worlds always colliding, but I’ve never seen her in person. Only in a photograph. Only that once. I’m sure it’s her, though.

The ice clinks in the glass and I watch as the liquid slips over each cube, cracking them and filling the crevices.

“You okay?” Patricia asks me. It’s odd. In the year or so since I’ve been coming here, she’s never bothered to make small talk. It’s why I don’t mind her.

I give her a tight smile as I reply, “I’m fine.” I reach her eyes and widen my smile, relaxing my posture as I lean back slightly.

She eyes me warily as she mutters, “You don’t look fine.”

It takes me a moment before I shrug it off and say, “I’m all right, just tired.”

She nods once and goes back to minding her own business, sliding me the whiskey and moving on to other customers.

I tap my pointer finger against the glass, looking casually down the bar.

She’s hidden from view, but I know she’s there.

Julia

My body tingles with another sip of cabernet.

It’s my third glass and it’s only tasting sweeter on my lips. The tips of my fingers always feel the turning point first when I drink. That familiar buzz that makes my body feel a bit heavy and my mind light.

“I can’t believe your license plate says Alimony,” Maddie says into her wineglass as she snickers again. She’s laughing so hard that the white zinfandel splashes onto her lips, but she doesn’t care. She merely smiles and takes a large gulp.

Suzette answers with a shrug and a cocky smirk, “The asshole had it coming to him.” Her bright pink lipstick smudges against her glass of Long Island iced tea and she wipes it away with her napkin as Maddie continues to laugh. Sue’s given herself a makeover since her divorce is now finalized. Currently she’s sporting jet-black hair cut into a blunt bob and bangs to go with her snippy attitude.

“Please tell me he saw it when you left the courthouse today. Please?” Maddie practically begs, still grinning from ear to ear.