The bar is nice and bright. We take seats near the window and both order a drink.
I can’t believe I’m here, but my inner voice tells me this is good because, if I was more honest with myself, I would admit that I like Sean’s company.
“How’s Patrick?”
This is probably not the most appropriate question to ask at this moment.
“Good. I guess.”
“Don’t you see each other very often?” Sean asks, sipping his drink.
“Well, no. He works a lot.”
“I see…and do you miss him?”
No. The horror of my answer jumps into my mind, making me open my eyes wide, turning them elsewhere.
“Well, not really. I think it’s over.”
“Do you think?”
I don’t want to explain in detail how pathetic my relationship is with Patrick. “It happens sometimes.”
What I didn’t think could have happened—and is happening now
