Page 67 of Little Bitter Truths
More time went by, and she returned to the kitchen, staring out the window to see if I was still there.
“I’m just going to stand here for a while,” I said.“I’m worried about you.Is that okay?”
“If I say it isn’t, will you leave?”
“No.”
We locked eyes, and she shook her head.
Then she cracked a smile.
It was just enough for me to feel like staying had been the right decision.
She set the wine bottle down and walked out of the kitchen.
A moment later, the front door opened.
“What were you planning on doing, standing out there all night if I didn’t let you in?”she asked.
“It didn’t feel right to go home without checking on you first.”
Before she could reconsider, I stepped through the doorway.A heavy scent of alcohol lingered in the air, and it went well beyond wine.She turned, and I followed her to the kitchen.An empty wine bottle lay on its side near the sink, and a second bottle stood open on the counter, half gone.Beside it was a bottle of tequila and a shot glass.
Mia snatched the bottle and tipped it to her lips, taking a long drink.
I thought about saying something, but I didn’t.
“Don’t judge me,” she said.
“Oh, I’m not.After what you’ve been going through, I get it.”
And I did.
“I figured I’d better let you into the house since you’re so … what’s the word I’m looking for?”she muttered.“Irritatingly persistent.”
I shrugged.“It’s part of the job.”
“Funny,” she said, though there was no humor in her tone.
She leaned back against the counter, staring down at the bottle in her hand, and I waited, giving her the time she needed to talk or to say nothing at all, if she chose.What mattered most in this moment was me being there.
“I liked him,” she said.“Simon or Jeremy, or whatever the hell name he goes by.I liked him a lot more than I care to admit.”She took another drink.“I thought I meant something to him.For a minute, it was like I wasn’t the woman whose sister had just been murdered or the woman who might be murdered next, but someone … desirable.”
There was something raw and unguarded in her expression now.Perhaps it was the alcohol, giving her the courage to say things she otherwise wouldn’t.
“The hardest part is that none of it was even real,” she said.
“It was real to you.”
“Yeah, but where does that leave me?”She shook her head, biting down on her lower lip.“I’ve always been a terrible judge of character.”
“You had no way of knowing Jeremy was lying to you.”
“I bet there were signs, and I just missed them.”
She set the bottle down and grabbed the tequila, pouring herself a shot.
I did nothing to stop her.
