Chapter Forty Three
The white envelope in my back pocket felt like it was made of solid lead. Every single time I moved, every time I bent down to grab a clean glass from the lower racks or wiped down the sticky wood of the bar counter, the sharp, stiff corner of the paper poked directly into my skin. It was a constant, quiet reminder of the first real lie I had ever told Jake, and it was driving me completely insane.
The afternoon went by so slowly it felt like the clocks had stopped. The clubhouse was quiet after the lunch rush died down, leaving me alone with my thoughts. A few prospects walked in to sweep the floors, their heavy boots making loud, dragging sounds on the wood, and every time the front door chimed, my hand instantly flew to my back pocket to cover the outline of the pa
