“Want a margarita?” she asks as she pulls salt, tequila, and a bottle of mix out of the cabinet.
“Are tacos even tacos without margaritas?”
“That’s my philosophy.” She happily begins to mix the drinks, and she looks like a professional bartender.
“Did you work as a bartender in California?”
“No, I wasn’t allowed to work.” The comment was made so casually, so off-handedly, as if she said,No, I’ve never been to New York.My hackles rise. “But I like to mix drinks, and because Anthony entertained so often, and he left the drink mixing up to me, I’m pretty good at it. I don’t have the best tools for it here. When I lived with him, I had an awesome set that he had to have paid a mint for. The bar wasimpressive.But then again, the whole house was because he was all about showing off for other people.”
She stops mid-shake and looks over at me with wide eyes. “Oh, God, Tanner, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to say all of that.”
“Why wouldn’t you?” I have to make a conscious effort to loosen my fisted hands. I want to punch that fucker in the face. “It was a part of your life, and we’re having a conversation, Sarah.”
“I know, but it’s…”
“Awkward,” I finish for her, and she looks down into the glass she’s holding. “That seems to be your favorite word with me lately, and I think we should clear it up right now. It’s only awkward if we make it that way. You used to talk to me about everything and anything. We’ve always been good at that, and there’s no reason that we shouldn’t be now.”
“But that was…before.”
“Doesn’t matter to me.”
“You look mad.”
I take a deep breath. “And here I thought I was doing a good job of hiding the fact that I want to punch that son of a bitch into the next century.”
She doesn’t smile. She simply watches me with sober eyes.
“Any anger or frustration that I feel isn’t directed at you. It’s maddening to know that you were mistreated for so many years, and there’s absolutely nothing I can do now to change it. I can’t go back in time and make it right for you.”
“I don’t need you to change it,” she replies, surprising me. Her voice is firm, her eyes direct, as she continues. “I appreciate the gesture, but it’s done. Finished. I learned a lot, and most importantly, I survived it. And I’m doing a hell of a lot better than I was when I first got home. I don’t even feel like the same person anymore.”
“I can see that.” I can’t help myself, I reach out to cup her cheek in my hand, and she leans into my touch. “I know you’ve come a long way in the past few months. You’re a strong woman, Sarah.”
“I am now.” She offers me a soft smile just as there’s a knock on the back door. “And there are the tacos. Thank goodness, I’m starving.”
She hurries over to open the door, takes the bag of food, and thanks the delivery person before returning to the kitchen counter and sets the bag down. She pulls out six tacos, a bag of chips and queso, and paper plates from the pantry.
“You did buy a ton of food.” I pop a chip into my mouth. “Am I about to eat tomorrow’s lunch?”
“Nah, I’ll grab something at the diner. I’d rather have the company,” she says and leads me into the living room. She sits on the floor, her back against the couch, and I follow suit, sitting directly across from her. “So, who have you been dating since I saw you last?”
I choke on a chip, and Sarah laughs as I take a sip of my margarita.
“That’s a hell of a conversation starter.”
“Well, I just figure if we can talk aboutanything, including my former marriage, it’s only fair that it goes both ways. Go on, you can tell me.”
I chew my taco and wipe my mouth with the napkin she offers me. “I mean, there have been a few dates here and there.”
She raises an eyebrow.
“Jesus, talk about awkward.”
Sarah laughs. “Oh, come on, you weren’t a monk for a dozen years.”
“No, but you don’t need to hear all about it. There hasn’t ever been anything very serious. A few dates here and there. I dated one girl that doesn’t live here anymore for a few months, but she got a job in Chicago, and I didn’t want to do the long-distance thing.”
“No, you’re not very good at that.”