“Yeah.”

“Okay,” she says. “Send a letter to her at work. Don’t do anything over the top—you don’t want to embarrass her, but you need to let her know that you haven’t forgotten about her, that you still want to find a way to make things work if you can. After that, I don’t know, but I bet you’ll get a response.”

Well, this has easily been the strangest night of my life, but at the same time, I can’t help but think it could be one of the most important.

“You know what?”

“What?” Wrigley asks.

“You’re right. Thank you for whatever voodoo you’ve been doing to help me see that, but I can’t just give up on her and me. I need to know if there’s some way we can make this work.”

Wrigley tells me that it might be better for me to call her again when it’s not four in the morning, but the phone’s already in my hand. I turn on the screen, ready to late-night drunk-dial Leila when I see the notification at the top of the screen.

“You have one voice message.”

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Five Alarm

Leila

We’re back at my apartment, Will and I, and I’ve been doing everything in my power to feel okay getting close to him.

So far, it hasn’t been working so well.

When I first showed him in, I was fully intending on ripping off his shirt and seeing what it’s like to ride a fireman, but I just ended up taking him for a tour of the apartment.

When we got to my bedroom, I told myself that this would be a perfect segue back toward sex, but I just stood there for a minute before asking him if he wanted something to drink.

Even after he said no, I still walked away from him and to the kitchen where I keep the liquor.

Now, I’m going through the freezer, trying to pick one of my five half-empty bottles to sooth my nerves.

I finally settle on tequila.

Okay, so I grab the bottle of rum, too.

All right, so I’m grabbing all of the bottles and setting them out on the counter, and I jump when Will asks me what I’m doing.

“Just setting these out,” I tell him. “Just in case you change your mind and you’d like something to drink. I’m pretty sure we could make some cocktails out of this stuff if you’d prefer that to a straight drink.”

“No,” he says, “I’m fine. You go ahead and indulge, though.”

“All right,” I tell him, and I go to the cabinet and pull out a glass.

I fill the thing half full with a mix of every one of these liquors and I try not to notice the shocked expression on Will’s face as I drink the whole thing down in one lift of the glass. I would say one gulp, but I’m not quite there yet.

“All right,” I tell him. “Would you like to watch a movie or something?”

“Are you okay?” he asks. “You just drank about eight shots there.”

“I’m fine,” I tell him, “just a bit nervous.”

Now that he mentions it, though, I am starting to feel a little sick to the stomach.

“We don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to,” he says. “I’m perfectly happy just hanging out for a while.”

“Let’s start with a movie,” I tell him. “We can always go from there.”

“All right,” he says and smiles at me.

He really is pretty fucking gorgeous, and I don’t know why I’m thinking of Dane as that thought goes through my head.

My fireman is tan and free of tattoos. He’s just looks like he belongs on a stage, accepting some kind of award for bravery or public service.

“Go ahead and make yourself comfortable. I’ll be right in,” I tell him.

“All right,” he says and walks into the living room.

With him safely out of sight, I take a few deep breaths and pop an antacid to try to calm my stomach. It’s not just the alcohol, although it is hitting me pretty hard already, but I don’t think I’ve ever been this nervous.

With Dane, I was hardly ever nervous. I got butterflies and all that, but it was always accompanied by a wonderful feeling. Right now, my anxiety is wrapped in a sort of visceral terror that I’m not sure what to do with.

Momentarily, the thought to take another drink pops into my head, but I almost gag just thinking about that possibility.

I pull some microwave popcorn out of the cabinet and pop it in. It’s not so much that I’m really that in the mood for popcorn, but I would like an excuse for taking so long.

“What do you want to watch?” Will asks from the other room.

“I don’t know,” I tell him. “What are you in the mood for?”

“Something light,” he says. “Something funny.”

“Sounds good,” I answer. “Check the bottom two shelves. That’s where I keep most of the American movies.”

“Yeah,” he says. “I see you’re really into foreign films.”

“Uh huh,” I answer, and I hope he doesn’t hear the annoyance in my voice.

Why am I so annoyed?

The microwave beeps and I burn my hands in the steam, pulling the popcorn out of it.

“Fuck!”

“You all right in there?” he asks.

“Yeah,” I tell him. “Popcorn’s hot. I’m fine.”

“Need some help in there?”

I’m bombing the crap out of this date.

I finally get the popcorn into an oversized bowl and make my way out to the living room.

“How about When Harry Met Sally,” he says. “I haven’t seen it in—what’s wrong?”

“I’m sorry,” I tell him. “I’ll be right back.”

It’s not my brightest moment, but I quickly set the popcorn on the coffee table and I’m running to the bathroom.

My stomach seemed to be doing okay right up until he held up When Harry Met Sally.

I try to be quiet, but of course, I’m not.

After a minute, there’s a knock on the door.

“Are you okay in there?” Will asks.

“Yeah,” I tell him. “Sorry, I guess I did overdo it on that shot, but I’ll be fine. Just give me a minute.”

“Maybe tonight’s not such a good night,” he says, and I feel like an idiot.

I don’t know what to say to him, so I don’t say anything. I just lie here on the floor and start to cry.

He knocks again, asking, “Are you all right? Do you need some water or anything?”

“Yeah,” I tell him, wiping my eyes with absolutely no lasting result. “I’m fine. I’ll be right out.”

“Okay,” he says. “I’ll stay until I know you’re going to be okay.”

Humiliation meets even more humiliation.

This isn’t how it was supposed to work out.

Dane and I were only together a very short while, and when it became clear that he wasn’t ready or willing to move with me, that was supposed to be the end of it. I was supposed to meet a nice guy here, though I didn’t expect it to happen so quickly.

I never imagined I’d actually meet a fireman after a week and that he’d come home with me on the first night.

I’m doing a great job of fucking this up.

I pull myself off the floor and flush the toilet. Before I open the door, I quickly brush my teeth and gargle with mouthwash.

My hopes aren’t too high about anything still happening, but the least I can do is be presentable.

My eyes are puffy, but some cold water eases the swelling. Within a couple of minutes, I’ve dried my eyes and I open the door.

Will is sitting on the couch.

He goes to speak, but I start first.

“Is there any possible way we can just pretend the last ten minutes ever happened and just go from here?” I ask.

“Listen,” he says, “my ex-wife was a big drinker, and while I’m certainly not about to tell you what to do with your life, I really don’t think I can go through that sort of thing again.”

“I really don’t drink that much,” I tell him. “It’s just. I don’t know, it’s been a rough week.”

Without any prompting, I just start telling him about Dane and how I left things. He listens patiently.

“…so I guess it’s just a little hard for me getting back out there so quick after everything, you know?”

“Yeah,” he says. “I can totally understand that.”