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I sat at the bar, sipping my drink as I waited for my best friend, Daniel. This week had been absolutely horrible, and my shoulder had been aching constantly every day since I met Naomi.
She got on my nerves—every last one that I had. The sessions were absolutely horrendous, and I hated them with every fiber of my being. I hated sitting in front of her and listening to her go on and on about how it was a safe space and that I could be open with her.
‘‘Whatever you’re feeling, Mr. Harris, feel free to let me know,’’ she would say in her soft voice, playing pretend with me! She was persistent—, I would give her that. Her persistence was nerve-racking, and all I wanted to do was close her mouth with tape so that she never spoke to me ever again.
“What did the glass do for you to be gripping it that tight?” Daniel clasped my shoulder as he sat down next to me.
“Nothing.” I grunted as I finished up the rest of my drink. “Want one?” I motioned to the glass, and he shook his head as he flagged down the bartender.
“I’ll have a beer. I can’t stay for too long,” he said as he leaned against the bar.
“Why not?” I bit out, and he laughed, not getting offended with my tone.
“The wife said so.” He smiled sheepishly. Yeah, rub it in my face that you’re happily married. I was truly happy for him. Sarai really loved Daniel, and she would still love him if he had nothing to his name. Sweet, but nauseating. “I don’t want to get divorced for not listening,” he mocked, and I rolled my eyes. He obviously found it amusing, seeing how he roared out in laughter as he shook his head.
Here comes the teasing—something I was absolutely used to with Daniel. As supportive as he was as my friend, he could not hold himself back when it came to teasing me and my failed marriage. I knew I should feel bitter every time he did so, but not an ounce in me believed he was lying.
I may be defensive sometimes, or tell him to shut it down, but he was allowed to have his opinion, and unfortunately his opinion was right. I guess the guilt made me want to refute it.
“Really, how can one get divorced for not listening?” He cackled as he took a sip of his beer. “What weren’t you listening to? The new range of Louboutin shoes that came out?” Oh, look at him enjoying this.
“I guess.” I shrugged as I took a sip of my brandy, the smooth drink burning my throat perfectly, I smacked my lips as I set down the glass on the coaster. How many glasses should I drink tonight? I was already on my third glass, but I was still as sober as I had been when I arrived.
“Hmm, what else did you miss?” Daniel knew everything about my failed marriage. I guessed he was trying to prove a point—a point he had been trying to prove for the last 13 years or so—and I had been too in love to ever listen to him.
Now that I’m divorced, I guess he’s been talking sense.
“How much my ex-wife loves luxury,” I muttered sarcastically, and Daniel tilted his head to the side. He pursed his smirked lips and took a sip of his drink without saying anything.
Yes, I know, Daniel. Miranda was obsessed with luxury, but anyone would fall head over heels for her. It was inevitable; the woman was as enticing as a Siren when you met her, and once you were in her territory, you didn’t even realize what terrifying being you had fallen for.
“Anyway!” He smacked his thigh, his eyes sparkling with interest. “How’s work? Are you ready for retirement?”
“Fuck.” I groaned, pulling my head back. He just had to go ahead and remind me about work—Miranda was no better topic, but honestly, I would have rather talked about her than Naomi.
“What’s wrong? Is it that bad?” he asked as he sat up, tilting his head to the side.
“I just can’t fucking wait to retire.” I shook my head as I leaned my head against my fist, looking at him. He raised his eyebrow, and of course, how could I say no to my best friend? “It just went downhill right in the last few months left of my contract; there’s this new consultant, and she’s terrible!”
“Why?” he asked as he peeled the peanuts out of their shells. “She doesn’t allow you to share freely?” This was what best friends were for: to easily be on your side even though they don’t know the full story.
I chuckled as I took a sip of my drink. “Bold of you to assume I’m even sharing anything.”
Daniel snarled and rolled his eyes. “I forgot I was talking to someone horrible. My apologies. I feel bad for the girl.” He laughed as I rolled my eyes, this time exaggerating on the roll. “What are you doing to her?”
“I know I said I don’t share, but that doesn’t make her the angel, either.” I defended myself as I sat up. “She’s absolutely vexing. Has so much to say and never stops yapping away.”
“And?” Daniel took a sip of his drink, crossing his leg over the other.
“She has such biased opinions.” I cracked my fingers, and Daniel whipped away from the peanuts he was focusing on to look at me, surprised.
“You sure it’s her? As far as I know, you’re the one with the biased opinions.” He pointed to me, and I stared at him silently. This time, I am offended.
“Yes, it is,” I gritted out, and he chortled, gulping down the rest of his drink.
“Oh? Interesting.”
“As I was saying, she got her job through her father and went around with her head held up high. You wanna know what title she said she falls under?” I asked, getting infuriated again just thinking about it.
