Between her unquellable anxiety that was causing her foot to jostle up and down restlessly as the cab wound its way through the streets of Brooklyn, and the constant blathering of the cabbie, she just wanted to tuck and roll to just get to Sam’s place on foot. The churning of her gut and the overly chatty driver were pushing her closer to the thought of scrapping the whole “going to a party” plan and instead heading back to her comfort zone of home.

In an effort to drown out the grating combination of the endless droning coming from the front seat and the intense urge to fidget herself clear out of the cab, she pinpointed her focus onto the raindrops streaming down the window. Each drop held the distorted colors of dead and decaying leaves on the trees slowly blurring past, of the different buildings in shades of red and brown brick, of people walking with umbrellas and clad in raincoats.

Watching the water worked. As the minutes ticked by and she crawled closer to Sam’s apartment that was tucked between Prospect and Sunset Park, she found her mind wandering back to what had been good about the past week.

She’d managed to take fairly decent care of herself for just over an entire week. That meant showering semi-regularly, eating a, for the most part, balanced diet, and leaving her closet-of-an-apartment for a few walks when her anxiety allowed it.

By far the hardest part of trying to get back to being a more normal-ish, functioning human being was her social life. She hadn’t had many friends before everything in her life had changed, and she had completely severed all contact with anyone she knew after the dust settled and she was left to deal with the shell of who she once was.

In a small effort to rectify some of the damage she’d done over the past months, she brought herself to send out a few texts to the couple people who had mattered before everything went to shit. A feeble, nowhere near worthy attempt of resurrecting friendships, but an attempt nonetheless.

She’d gotten a few responses and was still waiting to hear back from others. It was mostly pleasantries, and catching up with those who did decide she was worth a second chance. Shallow and surface level, sure, but it was a start. It was her trying to lift herself up from ground zero to get back onto her feet, back into life.

And on the front of her personal life and increasingly worrisome financial situation, she even dipped her toes into starting to look for a job. Mostly temp stuff that would at least get her money and some shitty, but necessary benefits. Another small step in the right direction—or at least what she thought was the right direction. She was getting back to the bare minimum for leading a self-sufficient life that wasn’t completely dictated by her painful moods that swung as easily as a plastic bag in the wind.

But for all the little moments of victory, there came twice as much shit that she still didn’t know how to deal with. For starters, the goddamn thoughts about Sam. She’d just be sitting on her couch, walking down the street, hopping into the shower, scrubbing a damn dish, and then suddenly she was back at that rickety and sticky round table at the front of the stage at the cabaret-turned-jazz club.

All she could see was the way Sam’s hands moved across the keys with such intent and elegance—so sure of where they were going and in no rush to get there. The way his lips formed the words as he sang them with an easy melody and comforting sweetness. The gleam of his watch from the stage lights. The way a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as he sang certain lyrics.

Then, in the same thought, her mind would pivot sharply to memories of Ben, and everything became a blurry mess of feelings and loneliness and what she thought might be her lusting for a man who played piano by night, fought in the courtroom by day, was a Londoner in a past life, and made her laugh with his effortless charm and wit.

Goddamnit her mind was a mess. For better or for worse, her attention was drawn back to the chatty cabbie and the nervous tapping of her foot as the car crawled to a stop outside of a block of brownstones.

She quickly paid her fare and stepped out into the drizzly and brisk fall evening. In a few quick steps she was up the stairs and looking over the panel of buttons to buzz herself up to Sam’s place—apartment number seven.

As her eyes came to rest on “Bailey”, she took a beat to take stock of herself. The rain had made her light jacket only a little damp. Her freshly curled hair that had fallen in neat waves upon leaving her place was probably a little less polished looking now, but it still felt presentable under the quick assessment of her fingertips.

Hopefully her lipstick hadn’t smudged against her teeth during the uneasy cab ride. Hopefully this outfit she had spent all week fussing over and debating about and being unsure of was actually halfway decent. Hopefully wearing booties with small heels for the first time in forever didn’t make her look as awkward as she felt.

All she could do was keep on hoping as she buzzed Sam’s apartment and waited for the clicking of the door. Hope that this wasn’t a mistake. Hope that she wouldn’t make an ass out of herself. Hope that her brain didn’t send her images of Sam’s hands and lips and handsome smile as she was just trying to navigate the social hell of this night.

Thunder rolled off in the distance just before the door unlocked and she pushed her way into the beautiful and historic brownstone. Only the clicking of her heels met her ears as she made her way up three flights of stairs to the top floor. In the silence of the old and well-loved building that had become such a huge part of the city’s history, she felt herself start to settle into something that felt like being at ease.

She reached the top of the landing and made a sharp turn to head toward Sam’s apartment. It was only as she stopped in front of his door that her heartbeat started to betray her. For a fleeting moment, memories of meeting up with Ben and waiting for him to answer from behind a closed door flooded into her mind.

But instead of falling into the feeling, instead of giving it a chance to grab hold and drag her down into the spiraling vortex of memories that would just bring her back into the useless misery that had been her life for months, she pushed forward.

With a quick check and straightening of her jacket and hair, she lifted her hand and gave Sam’s door three swift knocks. She pulled in air through her carefully red-painted lips and blew it back out as she waited for the door to open.

She would, no doubt, be met with another flood of memories and feelings that she would have to try and stamp down. It would be a miracle if she made it through the entire evening without needing to find a closet or bathroom to meltdown in, piece herself back together in, and then inevitably at some point have to face the same flood all over again.

As the door opened and the soft, warm light from Sam’s apartment washed over her and the hallway, she prepared to fight the urge to explain her way out of the building and back into the familiar and comforting arms of the darkness of her apartment. The same fight she’d had with herself every day for what seemed like forever.

There Sam stood, wearing a simple, well-fitted gray-knit sweater that hugged the curves of his lean, muscular build. His silver watch peeked out from the sleeve, and the sweater matched effortlessly with his dark jeans and brown shoes that added just the right accent color with their warm tan tone.

The smile which she had come to expect and enjoy was spread across his face as he took her in, his hand still on the door knob. She watched as his eyes traveled from her boots up to her face, his brows rising slightly as his head subtly cocked to one side. She could’ve sworn he tucked in his lower lip and gave it the tiniest bite—was she imagining things? Stop looking at his lips, for Christ’s sake.

“First off, you look stunning. Secondly, come in. And thirdly, what kind of drink would you like before we head out?”

No memories came, no feelings of dread, no sudden urge to walk back down the hall and back into darkness. More thunder rolled from outside as she found herself smiling back, head cocked to one side with her hands tucked into her jacket pockets as she considered his short list of questions.

“Thank you, and you look pretty damn sharp yourself, don’t mind if I do, and anything but an old-fashioned. In that order, I think.”

As he laughed and welcomed her in by stepping aside and sweeping his hand out beside him, she felt something like lightness wash over her mind and limbs. It was easy to walk forward into the warm light of his apartment. It was easy to shrug off her coat and hand it to him so he could place it on a hook next to his own.

She followed him through a small living room to an equally small kitchen that were open to one another. It gave her just the right amount of time to peer around and take in the look and feel of his space.

Dark and rich blue-green painted walls were covered in floating wooden shelves that held books, more books, and every now and then a piece of art or a photograph. The living room was cozy with a well-worn and welcoming looking sofa, along with an armchair that looked like Sam’s main spot. It was incredibly nice and put together while maintaining a homey, warm charm.

Several large and intimidating books laid next to the armchair on an end table with pens and highlighters strewn about. There was a half-finished glass of water, a bowl that held some kind of snack, and what looked to be a pair of thick-rimmed reading glasses.

Pieces of vintage art that hung between the lines of shelves and a well-used persian rug that anchored the room added just the right touches of personality. She felt as though she had walked into a small part of himself—like she had just stepped into a corner of his mind, or of his heart. The space was simple, unassuming. Genuine. It matched his persona, of what she had come to know of him so far.

She stopped at his kitchen island, resting her hands on the cool stone countertop as she watched him reach into a cabinet and pull down a bottle of what looked to be whiskey and two glasses.

He paused after he uncorked the bottle and looked to her as he held a glass in one hand and the liquor in the other.

“Neat or on the rocks?”

“Neat, please and thank you.”

After expertly pouring about an inch into each mismatched glass with the added flair of raising and lowering the amber-colored stream of booze, he slid hers across the white stone countertop and raised his own to give a toast before their first sips.

“Here’s to this drink being the first of several, to both of us cleaning up pretty damn nicely, if I do say so myself, and to celebrating having some good old-fashioned fun.” He paused momentarily to offer her a quick wink before finishing his perfectly-put toast, the slivers of light reflecting through his glass casting a heavenly glow across his sharp features. “Cheers.”

With a quick sigh and shake of her head, she raised her glass and said her own cheers before taking a long, deep sip of the familiar drink.

She’d always drank whiskey because it always seemed to be around. At her foster homes, at her and Laney’s apartment, at Ben’s place. What was it about whiskey that made it appear at nearly every place in her life? What made the strong burn, warmth and smoothness so good, that lifting a glass up for another sip was so easy? It was comfort in a glass, pure and simple.

“Maybe if I can get you to keep pouring me whiskey neats, we can forget about going to the party altogether and just order takeout and watch bad movies.”

He leaned forward onto the counter, resting on crossed forearms, his own nearly finished drink clasped in the hand that was accompanied by his silver watch.

After a few seconds of overly dramatic contemplation, he raised his glass, and before taking a sip, his eyes met her gaze.

“As close as I am to accepting that offer with incredible enthusiasm, we both know it’ll be good for us to get out. I will serve an important role as your guest, and as your shield should you require someone to interject with awful jokes, anecdotes and general topics that both distract and amaze.”

He took a long sip to finish off what was left of his whiskey, and she followed suit after chuckling into her glass and enjoying the last bit of warmth that spread through her body as the amber liquid coursed through her.

With a sigh, she examined her empty glass before looking up to find Sam glancing at his watch, his posture straightening as he read the hands.

“Well, it appears to be that time. Shall we head out into the dreary drizzle, grab a cab, have some fun, and return unscathed? Because if I wait any longer, I might just find myself ordering a pizza and turning on shitty movies.”

“As much as I do love my own idea of ditching, you’re right about having some fun, and I envy your audacious optimism about returning unscathed.”

He gave her a grin before placing their freshly empty glasses in the sink and heading back towards the front door. Anna followed a few steps behind him, restlessly pulling at and smoothing over her turtleneck and skirt combo one last time before heading out. To a party. At Laney and Greg’s new place. With a guy she met a few weeks ago during a panic attack after a failed attempt at going to therapy.

Yes, more drinking would most definitely be in order to make this evening hopefully go just as smooth as the whiskey that still coated her lips and tongue.

Sam held her coat out for her as she slipped her arms inside, causing her to murmur “thank you” at the unexpected gesture. He slid into his own jacket, grabbed his keys and wallet from a side table, and then took a deep breath before opening the door and turning to look at Anna.

“You’re absolutely sure I’m allowed to use any and all jokes? Some are as bad, if not worse than dad jokes, and I feel like that’s really saying something.”

She rolled her eyes and walked past him into the hallway. As she waited for him to lock the door and lead the way down the stairs, she couldn’t help but notice that the light and relatively easy feeling seemed to still be following her, keeping her just far enough from the edge of her anxiety to leave her feeling suspectly normal.

She followed Sam down the stairs and out into the steady drizzle and grayness of the early evening, taking in how neatly arranged his hair was. Long on the top, and the sides shaved to perfection. It dawned on her then that he must’ve gotten a haircut very recently, his uniform length now a thing of the past. It was just different enough to have a sleek edge, to make his overall look even more compelling.

He hailed them a cab, opened the door for her, and proceeded to casually slide in next to her. She rattled off the new address from the text message Laney had sent her earlier in the week, and then the cab was off on their new adventure into the great unknown of social interactions and expectations.

Sam kept the ride comfortable and lighthearted as he talked about his favorite spots in his neighborhood, shared little tidbits about New York’s history and other relevant information as they passed deeper through Brooklyn towards the Verrazano-Narrows Bridge that would take them over to Staten Island.

The only feeling that crept up on her in the confines of the cab was the one that she had been grappling with all week—the one that had her glancing at Sam’s hands that were clasped in his lap, had her eyes lingering on his lips for a little too long, had her noticing how good he smelled. Fresh and clean with a splash of cologne.

If he caught on to her glances, he didn’t say anything. Instead, he just kept on with his easy banter that put her at ease in a way she didn’t fully understand. And for now, she was okay with not knowing why. All she knew was that she felt relatively okay considering the situation she was about to find herself in. She knew that she had someone with her who understood how volatile her emotions could be, and that gave her the tiniest bit of confidence she needed to get through a few hours at a party.

So she kept her eyes on Sam, watching as he explained things with his hands and told her stories and made jokes, his expressions open and varied. And with the other small scraps of confidence she had mustered for tonight—her red lipstick, her all-black ensemble, and her favorite set of shiny gold rings adorning her fingers—she found herself laughing at Sam’s jokes, asking him questions about his stories and giving him shit about all the random facts he had stored away in his brain about the city.

When the cab finally came to a halt outside of a gorgeous two-story house with a beautiful brick facade Anna had never laid eyes on before, she was genuinely surprised at how short the 45-minute trip had seemed. She quickly paid the cab driver before Sam could intervene, and found herself a little reluctant to peel herself off of the worn seat and slide out into the rain.

She could’ve driven around listening to Sam talk for hours as they wound through the streets of New York in the too-hot cab with rain-spattered windows that blurred out just enough of the outside world.

Instead, she found herself thanking him for holding the cab door open, and took fast steps through the steady rain in an effort to reach the front door without getting soaked.

This was it. Sam stopped beside her on the doorstep and shook some of the rain from his jacket. Funny how it took her until the moment they were on the doorstep to the party to notice they were both dressed—like they were true opposites or were just being intentionally coordinating and chic. A yin and a yang.

She kept the thought to herself and turned to Sam before reaching forward to press the new-looking electronic doorbell. Hesitating, she turned to look at him, her heart rate spiking.

“You ready?” It was a silly, rhetorical question that she was asking more to herself than anything—as if she were giving herself one last chance to hightail it out into the rain, splashing down the cracked sidewalk to find somewhere else, anywhere else to be.

“Ready if you are.”

As he gave her an easy smile, his bright blue eyes soft and full of reassurance, she reached forward and gave the doorbell a push, watching as it lit up in an organized display of technologically programmed lights.

As the seconds started to tick by and she took in the warm glow coming from the windows and the dull murmur of a crowd from behind the perfectly painted door, her heart rate somehow kept increasing. All the anxiety and nervousness she’d tried to quell during the day and at Sam’s place was trying its damndest to resurface.

She had the sudden urge to reach out for his hand. To just try and feel anchored to something. To remind her that her feet were on the ground and he really was there next to her, ready to offer up a joke or story to keep her mind on track.

But before she could turn to him and try and vocalize in a few short seconds that she was scared and suddenly felt lightheaded and her heart beat so hard it hurt her chest, the door opened.

And there stood Laney. Clad in her usual uniform of a flowing boho-chic blouse and coordinating skirt that draped beautifully down to her ankles. Her hair was perched in a perfectly messy bun at the back of her head with dark brown strands falling down and around her face in pretty chaos.

Something in her chest gave way at the sight of her best friend. Hearing her voice had been one thing. But seeing her … The huge, dumb grin that came to her face was natural. All the shitty feelings that had been starting to churn up inside of her were quieted again.

Her chest loosened, and words came to her lips without hesitation.

“Laney, it’s so good to see you. Your house is beautiful, and so are you.”

“Come here, friend. God, I’ve missed you.”

She felt Sam’s hand lightly rest against her lower back as she stepped over the threshold, and into what felt like both the comforting embrace and lion’s den of the past. It was just the anchoring push she needed to feel a little more sturdy and a little less fragile as she walked into the warmth of Laney’s hug, the bright glow of her best friend’s new home enveloping her.

One day, one outing, one small step at a time. Try, do, and try again.

----------------------------------------

“The crown molding and paneling look stunning, Laney. I can’t believe how much work and love you’ve put into this house already. It’s incredible.”

She found herself shaking her head from side to side in disbelief as she took in every room and space Laney guided both her and Sam through.

“Aww, thanks Anna. It means a lot to hear you say that. We really thought we were in over our heads when we bought a house that literally needed work everywhere you looked, but it was perfect. The location, the size, the look of the outside … It just needed a little interior TLC.”

Laney led them back down the staircase which landed right in the foyer where they’d come in. Showing them around was the first thing Laney had wanted to do when Anna and Sam had arrived. As soon as they’d shrugged off their wet coats and neatly placed their shoes in the designated trays, they were whisked off onto a whirlwind tour of Laney and Greg’s beautiful home.

Seeing all the effort and time and love they’d put into the home they’d worked so hard to buy together made something ache in Anna’s chest. She could see things they had done that she had overheard them talking about months ago. How they wanted a space where Laney could set up her very own art supplies and work to her heart's content. How Greg would have his office space. How they wanted an extra room for a little bundle of joy that might come along one day. How they wanted an open and airy first floor that they could easily relax and enjoy on a daily basis while also being able to effortlessly entertain guests on occasion—like tonight.

As they hit the landing, Anna was able to take in just how many people were in attendance. It wasn’t overly crowded, but there were definitely more guests than she had imagined. Laney’s group of friends ran small. She’d gathered relationships from the various schools she’d worked at over the years, and made friends with some of the wives from the police department. And of course Greg had plenty of his own friends in attendance, being the relentless chatterbox that he was.

Laney had assured Anna several times over the past week that Ben would most definitely not be in attendance. It was an unnecessary, but appreciated gesture. It felt good to have Laney firmly on her side again. Back when everything in her life that had been normal and good had so quickly and easily crumbled and fallen apart, Laney hadn’t been so eager to see things through Anna’s eyes.

Maybe it was Laney’s relationship with Greg, or Anna’s track record of getting herself into less-than-ideal situations with the men she was seeing that had her best friend hung up. Sure, some of it was self sabotage, but oftentimes it had everything to do with whatever womanizing asshole she was dating that particular week.

When things went sour with Ben, both Greg and Laney were skeptical of Anna’s reasons. Laney, and in turn, Greg, knew that she had been sexually assaulted, while Ben opted to deny that it even happened. All because she couldn’t find it within herself to call the police, to go and get a rape kit at the hospital. The incident had paralyzed her into inaction. And when she finally gathered the courage to tell Ben in an effort to explain her distant and unfriendly behavior, he didn’t believe her.

He said she was making things up, trying to invent reasons to sabotage their relationship. That she didn’t know how to see and accept a good thing in her life. That she was just looking for an easy way out.

And little did he know, he had given her the very reason she needed to completely abandon their relationship. The hurt that stemmed from his vehement denial of her assault was unbearable. No matter how hard she tried to squash it down and simply move on with her life, she couldn’t. She could hardly look at Ben without anger and disappointment surging up fiercely inside her, threatening to overtake her entirely and tear him down piece by piece.

The little time they had spent together after she told him about the incident was horribly painful. Add in the fact that Ben couldn’t seem to keep his hands off of her no matter how many times she tried to explain that she just wasn’t ready and couldn’t be intimate, and it was obvious, to her at least, that the relationship was over.

Ben had lost it the last time he had tried to seduce her into having sex with him and she refused him, again. He yelled at her. And she simply looked into his angry face and told him it was over, and that she didn’t want to see him again.

And that was that. Six months had passed since that awful, awful night. Well, there was that one time about four months ago that they had come incredibly close to having a one night stand that would’ve crippled her emotions even further. All the alcohol that had been coursing through her system, the adrenaline and rage from her then new, hyper-intense workout routine fueling her into a bar fight with two idiots. Her subsequent arrest, and then being saved from having to spend a night behind bars by none other than Ben.

But now was definitely not the time to dwell on that absolute shitstorm of a story. Not in the middle of a party at her best friend’s new house with a new friend at her side. A friend who was giving her the small shred of courage she needed to follow Laney through the small groups of people chatting throughout the living room and dining area in order to reach the makeshift bar setup in the kitchen.

She somehow managed to keep a smile spread on her face with each person they passed, even though her anxiety and nervousness spiked and began to accelerate at a rapid pace. Faces of people she and Ben had met time and time again over the course of their relationship were painted with questions as they took her and her guest in with arched brows and curious glances.

Sam followed behind her closely. The feeling of his hand lightly resting against her lower back still somehow remained, like a phantom touch. She found some comfort in the fact that if she started to panic or lose the loose grip she had on her composure, he would be there to keep her grounded in the here, in the now.

“So what will you two be drinking this evening? Wine, Anna?”

“That sounds lovely. A red, if you’ve got it.”

“That’s my girl. And for you, lawyer Sam, as Anna so lovingly calls you? Something neat? Or is that an out-of-date lawyer stereotype?”

Sam offered her a chuckle and a smile before responding.

“It may be out-of-date for some, but not for me. A whiskey neat for the stereotypical lawyer would be wonderful, thank you.”

“You got it, coming right up!”

And with that, Laney was off to the far end of the kitchen to grab their drinks. Anna watched on, a genuine smile spread across her face as she observed Laney in her element. Spinning between guests, stopping to say hello, and then being stopped with hands on her arm to chat every few moments. The Laney she had come to love and cherish over all those years of living together—them against whatever they thought was holding them back.

Who knew when their drinks would actually make it back to them. But thank god she wasn’t alone to be preyed upon by one of the many sets of eyes she felt lingering on her as she waited and leaned against the kitchen island, trying to look casual and relaxed. She had Sam.

“We made it to alcohol. It’s got to be a smooth sailing, downhill glide from here, right? We just need to ensure the social lubricant keeps coming. That is, if it ever gets here.”

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

She chuckled as she watched Laney get sidetracked yet again by someone else who was grabbing her attention for some reason or another.

Sam leaned against the counter next to her, his watch-clad wrist and arm very lightly touching hers as he propped himself up on his forearms.

“She’s pretty spirited, isn’t she? I can see why you’re friends. I feel happier just having talked to her during our tour.”

“Spirited is a sweet way to put it. She’s chirpy when I’m groggy as hell in the morning, she’s carefree when I’ve got four million things weighing down on my mind, she’s bubbly in a room full of people while I’m leaning against something in a corner brooding and looking generally unpleasant.”

He threw her an inquisitive glance and cocked his head as he took her in.

“Well, I do see the lean you speak of, but there’s no brooding or general unpleasantness like you’ve described.”

Maybe it was the fact that nothing had happened yet to dredge up feelings of awfulness, or the way Sam looked at her, but she decided to entertain his observation and screwed up her face into the most over-exaggerated expression of annoyance she could manage.

The resulting laugh that caused him to tip his head back and squint his eyes shut pulled a chuckle from her own lungs.

“Okay, I take it back. I definitely get it now. That was horrifying. I’m tempted to leave after that display, but I’m going to tough it out because I’m a nice guy. But if I see it again … Well, I can’t make any promises.”

She was just about to mention how her order of wine should hopefully put her distaste for social situations and large gatherings of people to bed for the night, when someone tapped her on the shoulder.

Gah, shit. It was bound to happen sooner or later. Had she really convinced herself that she could go all night living in a little untouchable bubble with Sam, drinking and laughing without anyone else bothering them?

“Anna, it’s so good to see you. We’re so glad you could make it. Really. You have no idea how happy you’ve made Laney.”

She turned to find Greg, shockingly clad in something besides his usually drab detective garb, standing with his arms open to her, waiting for a hug.

With a quick intake of breath and the slight gritting of her teeth, she stepped forward and gave the man who had been quick to take Ben’s side all those months ago a hesitant hug.

Silly of her to think that it would be just a hug. Of course it would be used as an opportunity to whisper something to her that wouldn’t be obvious or audible to Laney, or even Sam for that matter.

“It’s driving Ben crazy not being here tonight since he found out you’d be coming.”

And with those words, the loose grip she had on herself finally slipped. Everything fell away. The other people, Sam leaned against the counter behind her, Laney who was off somewhere maybe or maybe not getting their drinks. She looked on at Greg, dumbfounded with her mouth hanging open like an idiot.

Feelings of hurt and anger and resentment overwhelmed any and all logic in her brain. She could feel the venom coming up, ready to strike back at the man who she so tentatively dealt with to keep Laney happy.

“Look, Greg, if you think I came here to hear a damn thing about Ben or his life, you’re sadly mistaken. I came here for Laney, and only Laney. If you so much as allude or suggest anything about my past relationship, I swear I—”

“I’m sorry to interrupt, but we haven’t met yet. Are you Laney’s boyfriend? Congratulations on the incredibly beautiful home. The work you’ve put into it is very impressive. I’m Sam, Anna’s friend. And you are?”

The look of derailment on Greg’s face as Sam stepped forward and stood close to her to interject, his hand gently resting on her back just like it had when they’d arrived, was enough to bring her back to Earth from traveling hundreds of miles an hour towards the molten core of all of her grief and anguish.

“Oh, uh, yes, I’m Greg. Laney’s boyfriend. Nice to meet you. You said you’re Anna’s friend?”

“Her plus one, yes. Anna was nice enough to invite me along for a nice evening out. I tend to live as a bit of a shut-in, due to being busy with my law practice and not having much of a social life, so her offer was greatly appreciated.”

“Busy as a lawyer?”

“That’s right. I'm a family and pro bono lawyer in Manhattan. In a room full of cops, I’m sure that’s not a very admired career choice. But don’t worry, I’m sure you all are fighting for change, right? For a better system? You know, looking out for the ones who are too poor to defend themselves against the injustices, racial prejudices and blatant incompetencies of the judicial system. Or maybe you all think the system is working just fine here in the city. Anyways, yes, I am a lawyer, and Anna’s guest for the evening.”

Greg was clearly grasping for some semblance of a straw to bring himself back into the conversation without coming across as a complete and utter ass. Fortunately for him, Laney arrived with their drinks in her hands—Greg’s unknowing knight in shining armor. Always there to cover up for his complete lack of empathy for anyone else.

“Your drinks! I am so sorry it took so long, I feel like I got stopped by everyone I crossed paths with! I see you found Greg—hopefully he isn’t boring your ear off about the crown molding or every nitty gritty detail of the remodeling. I swear what he thinks is interesting … ”

What the hell was she supposed to say? That within seconds of crossing paths with Greg, he found it appropriate to bring up Ben? It wasn’t worth wasting her breath on any more. Not tonight, and quite possibly never again. Thankfully for her and her lack of coming up with a response that didn’t allude to anything that had just transpired, Sam came to her rescue.

“Hardly anything I’d classify as boring. It’s all great information for someday when I have my own home projects to tackle. And thank you for the drinks, Laney. We pleasantly passed the time by chatting, didn’t we Anna?”

She took her wine from Laney’s outstretched hand after forcing herself to summon a smile back to her face and find her cool, calm and collected voice again.

“We did. No need to apologize, Laney. It’s your party, after all—enjoy it. I’m sure Sam and I can entertain ourselves. Go mingle, you two. We’ll catch up in a bit.”

Laney’s brows drew together as she quizzically glanced between Anna, Greg and then Sam.

“Hmm, okay you two. Please enjoy yourself. Relax, grab a bite, and feel free to keep on drinking. God knows Greg bought enough alcohol. Oh, and of course there will be dancing later, so hopefully you guys stick around to bust a move or two. We’ll chat soon.”

With a quick hug and squeeze, leaving behind her signature smell of herbs and something that was probably bottled starlight, Laney was off, tugging Greg along forcefully by the sleeve of his sweater. There was no doubt in Anna’s mind that she saw right through the bullshit all three of them performed, no matter how smoothly she thought Sam had managed to play it off. Laney knew Anna too well, knew Greg too well. She didn’t know Sam, so maybe he’d be Greg’s saving grace. The fact that he covered for him at all was just another point towards his character.

Kind enough to spare a man he’d just met from the wrath of two women. Kind enough to offer a stranger help during one of their breakdowns. It just seemed to be who Sam was. Maybe she could learn a thing or two yet. Not tonight, but maybe another day when she wasn’t desperately sipping red wine in an effort to soothe the molten lava that Greg had managed to churn up in her insides.

As soon as Laney had pulled Greg clear across the house towards the front door to greet more guests that were arriving, Anna turned back to lean against the counter and rested her forehead in one of her hands.

“My god! How can one man be such an incomprehensible fucking idiot? Is there a sign on me somewhere that says ‘Please ask and or tell me about my ex?’ Is there?”

Sam made a good show of looking Anna over. He checked her back, even going as far as lifting up the arm that was closest to him. She chuckled into her wine glass before taking another long sip as he finished his inspection and returned his attention to his own glass with raised brows.

“There appears to be no sign tacked to you anywhere. Let’s try to forget about that little speed bump and return to enjoying our evening, shall we? We’ll start by sipping on this delicious alcohol, move onto food, and then with talk of music and dancing, who knows, maybe we’ll even find ourselves cutting a rug.”

That earned him a full on laugh from her. It brought a genuine smile back to her lips, and eased some of the tension that had creeped back into her body from Greg’s infuriating and unwelcome relaying of information about Ben.

“Alright, you’re right. Let’s get back on track. Before I down this rather large glass of wine, let’s find food.” She waved her arm out towards the opposite corner of the kitchen where a spread of appetizers was waiting for her churning stomach.

He stepped aside with a smile and beckoned her forward.

“Getting between a lady and her food seems ill advised. Lead the way, Miss Weston.”

With a grin and quip about the accuracy of his food comment, she started to walk past him and towards the mouth watering array of meats, cheeses, fruits and desserts.

And as she brushed past him, unable to avoid it with how close they were standing to the other guests, she felt his hand rest on the small of her back just like it had a few times already during the evening.

She paused for the briefest of moments, turning to look over her shoulder at Sam’s clean-shaven face, which was close enough for her to reach out and touch.

Instead of listening to the sudden impulse that shot through her brain, no doubt fueled by the large glass of wine that was now nearly empty, she opted to lean into the hand he had on her lower back before continuing on her direct path to food. Sweet, sweet food.

During their short walk through groups of people mingling and laughing, he gave her a soft and gentle caress with his thumb that caused heat to rise in cheeks and prickling goosebumps to cascade down her limbs.

Reaching the food and grabbing a plate was a welcome distraction from the little flicker of heat she felt somewhere underneath all the bitterness and hurt and anger she carried around everywhere she went.

It was hard to ignore as she reached for all kinds of meats, cheeses, fruit spreads and crackers. It proved even harder to ignore as they both made their way to a mostly occupied couch and squeezed onto it so closely together their legs, hips and arms touched as they sat down.

They sipped on their drinks, enjoyed eating, sipped on their second and third round of drinks that Sam fetched from the well-stocked bar in the kitchen, and found themselves genuinely having a good time.

As they joked and laughed and shared stories about awful dates and their favorite meals and what they loved and hated about living in and around the city, she felt herself leaning into him a little bit more. Felt herself slowly and enjoyably unwinding from the tight coil that usually existed inside of her as a result of her everyday existence.

They reveled in each other’s company as they sat brushing limbs and legs on a crowded couch in the middle of a pretty packed party. Anna could’ve sat there all night talking and laughing with Sam. But her bladder could only hold so much liquid, and she had been putting off making a trip to the bathroom for an ill-advised amount of time already. So she reluctantly excused herself from the couch and attempted to remember Laney’s directions to the first floor powder room.

Walking with a buzz startled her at first. It had been months since she had drank to the point of steady and bubbly lightness. She didn’t have trouble walking, her vision was just fine, and her stomach didn’t churn with the power of a tidal wave. Her gait was easy, and she could feel the exaggerated swing of her hips with each step. She smiled at people as she brushed past. She let the pleasant beat of the music occupy her thoughts as she finally found the door to the bathroom—mercifully there was no wait.

She took her time after she at long last emptied her painfully full bladder. After she washed her hands, she gave her face a once over in the mirror. She’d kept her small purse slung across her body as Laney had taken their coats, so she took a few additional minutes to touch up her lipstick and dabbed on some powder where her makeup had worn thin.

With a few sprays of the small perfume sample she had milked for seemingly forever, she left the restroom and wound her way back to Sam through throngs of people. She came to a halt as she reached the living room, her eyebrows rising in surprise as she took in all the moved furniture and absence of people in the middle of the room. A makeshift dance floor.

A small surge of panic rose up in her chest as she realized that she’d lost track of Sam. Her eyes darted around the room, looking for his muscular figure clad in that distractingly well-fitted sweater and perfectly matched jeans.

After what felt like an eternity due to her pleasant level of inebriation but was in reality only a handful of seconds, she spotted Sam chatting with a few other guys next to the brick fireplace centered along the wall just across from her. She’d have to cross the empty dance floor to reach him. Risking drawing attention to herself. Attention she really didn’t mind with the alcohol coursing through her. But attention she’d really do anything to avoid, nonetheless.

Just as she was about to attempt to skirt around the edge of the people that had formed around the dance floor, Laney stepped into the center of it with Greg at her side. Anna stopped mid step and kept herself standing just across the room from Sam, who was now blocked from her line of sight by her two friends.

Drinks in hand with arms wrapped around each other, Laney started to speak with a big, easy grin spread across her face.

“Friends and family, thank you all so much for coming to celebrate with us tonight. As many of you know, this home has been a dream of ours for a long, long time. It took a while to find just the right place that met both of our particular and unique expectations, but we did it. And while it may be on the island and not New York proper, it’s still perfect to us. So keep drinking, keep eating and please start dancing. I’ve put together a pretty bumping playlist if I don’t say so myself, and Greg dislikes most of it so I know I did a good job. Without further ado, continue to enjoy yourselves and thank you all again so much for coming to celebrate with us!”

Laney and Greg raised their glasses, and people applauded and drank along with them as they left the dance floor and the music started from speakers somewhere in the room. It didn’t take long for a few couples and groups of friends to make their way out into the freshly cleared space and start dancing along to the poppy hit that filled the room with a fun and easy vibe.

And through the still rather sparse dance floor, she looked to where she had spotted Sam just minutes ago and found him staring back at her, a crooked grin pulling at the corner of his mouth, his dimples on full display. Her returning smile was a reflex that came easy, naturally.

Just as she started to weave her way through the happily dancing people that provided more than enough cover from too many eyes landing on her, Sam started to move towards her. He stepped forward, hands tucked into the pockets of his jeans, and kept on smiling at her as he wove through joyfully dancing people.

He reached the middle of the dance floor before she did, giving her a few seconds to take him in as he took one hand out from his pocket and extended it towards her as she approached. An invitation. To dance. With him.

Honestly, had it not been for the alcohol coursing through her, she would’ve brushed off the offer with a laugh and walked herself to join the others surrounding the people cutting loose and having a good time. Then she would’ve immediately sought out more alcohol.

She never danced casually at parties. Even before everything had happened. Ben might as well have been from the town in Footloose, give or take the one or two slow dances they’d had together during their relationship, and she just never really felt comfortable dancing at parties. That is, unless she was fucked out of her mind at a rave or drinking with friends—like she was tonight.

So instead of turning tail and heading for her comfort zone away from the prying eye of spectators, she continued walking towards Sam. She offered him a grin in return before putting her hands on her hips, cocking her head and stopping to stand in front of him and his outstretched hand.

“It’s not officially a good time at a party until you dance, right?”

She laughed and made a show of considering his question.

“Depends on who you ask, but for me, I can say there’s some truth to that.”

“So, miss Anna, will you dance with me?”

After a few more seconds of overly dramatic pondering, she reached out and took his hand. The blush in her cheeks deepened as she felt his warm and surprisingly soft hand gently wrap around her own. And before she could take in his classically handsome features and the infectious smile that gave his eyes that lovely and charming glint, she was twirling.

He sent her off towards the edge of the dance floor, her other arm naturally splaying out, before twirling back and taking her by both hands. And just like that, it was easy for her to fall into the beat of the music and Sam’s natural rhythm. They moved together effortlessly as one song seamlessly transitioned into the next.

She would really have to grill him later about how he became such a good dancer. Sure he wasn’t a trained professional like she was, but he was leaps and bounds above just your average party moves.

They laughed and smiled and at times, moving their bodies just a little closer together. She’d back into his arms so he rested against her back, and they’d move together in time to the beat. It caused long forgotten heat to course through her—from the tips of her fingers, to her toes, to the tops of her ears.

Oh how lovely it felt to just not give a fuck. Everything fell away. The other people in the room, the constant buzzing of anxiety and nervousness in her brain, the heavy weight constantly sitting at the bottom of her stomach.

Gone. It was all gone as she danced with Sam song after song after song. Until the music changed to something sweet and melodic. A slow dance. It gave her a chance to quickly suggest they take a little break and go grab some water. Sam agreed wholeheartedly, following her to the kitchen without any protest.

They continued to chat over deliciously refreshing sips of cold water, giving her an opportunity to grill him about those dance moves.

“You know, that’s actually a good question. There was always dancing going on in my family. We danced when we were happy, we danced when we needed to feel better, we danced when songs we liked came on the radio. It’s just something I’ve always done. And like to do, too. Maybe I’m just a good observer, or a natural as they say. But honestly, I just like it.”

They were both leaning against the stone counter of the kitchen island again, forearms pressed to the cool surface while they cradled glasses of water.

“Compared to the many, many men I’ve seen dance, you’ve got some moves and rhythm for a casual participant. All that time dancing growing up really paid off.” The thought of time had her curious, and through her dying buzz, she realized she didn’t have the slightest clue how late it was.

She reached out for the wrist that held his watch and turned her head to get a better look.

“Oh my god, how is it after midnight? I could’ve sworn it was just after ten when I went to the bathroom.”

“Apparently we really know how to cut a rug, and have a good time doing it at that.”

“Apparently. Didn’t you say you had a full day of work tomorrow? On Saturday? The most blessed day of the weekend?”

“Sadly, yes, I do have to work tomorrow. Midnight is a little later than I’d intended on staying out, but what does it matter when you’re having a hell of a good time?”

It was then she realized she was still holding his wrist in her hand as they rested on the cool countertop. She hadn’t felt the need to pull away, and clearly neither had Sam. She smoothly pulled her hand back and stood up straight, careful not to make it seem like she was doing it frantically.

“Well, why don’t we find Laney and make our way out of here?”

“Sounds good to me, she’ll have to help us track down our coats too I think.”

After a little meandering through and between groups of people chatting around the slow dancers, they came across Laney near the front door where she was bidding farewell to two other guests.

“Thank you both so much for coming, we’ll definitely need to see you both again before the gala in the spring. Drive safe!”

She shut the door and turned to find Anna and Sam smiling and waiting.

“Oh my gosh! Anna! You’re still here! I thought for sure you would’ve slipped out hours ago.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence, Laney. We took up your generous offer of drinks, food and dancing, and we found ourselves having a pretty damn good time. Turns out you two can host an even meaner party in a proper house.”

Laney beamed back at her with a smile she had come to love over the years. It always had a way of melting through her rough and crusty exterior and finding its way into her heart, no matter the situation.

“I’m so, so happy you came, Anna. You have no idea. Really. It was so amazing to see you. And Sam! What a pleasure to meet you. We’ll have to get together again so we can actually chat and spend time together.”

Sam nodded, slipping his hands into his front pockets and offering her a warm smile before saying, “The pleasure was all mine. I’m very glad Anna invited me to tag along. Both you, and your home are lovely. Hopefully we can see each other again soon.”

He was more or less talking to Laney’s back as she searched through the small closet by the door and several hooks on the wall for their coats. Just as he finished talking she came up victorious, handing them their respective jackets with that signature smile still spread on her face.

“We will definitely need to make plans soon. I think I’ll just keep bugging Anna until we can get down something concrete. Now are you two cabbing back together or … ?”

She shrugged on her coat as she considered the rather loaded question Laney had just casually dropped into the air between the three of them. Innocent her ass.

“I think we’ll cab separately—I’m farther than Sam anyways, and he actually has to be an adult tomorrow.”

Sam offered a smile and nod of agreement as he finished shrugging on his own coat and offered Laney his hand.

“It was a pleasure to meet you, Laney. I look forward to seeing you again.”

“Likewise—thank you for coming, Sam. I hope we can do this again soon and have more time to get to know each other.”

She dropped his hand and was suddenly pulling Anna into a near bone-crushing hug. Taking Anna off guard, she stood awkwardly for a moment with her arms at her sides before laughing and wrapping her arms around Laney’s lithe yet muscular frame.

“I can’t thank you enough for coming tonight, Anna. You have no idea how good it is to see you. I’ve missed you so, so much. Don’t be a stranger, okay? You’re always welcome here. Always.”

Laney’s perpetual aroma of herbs and flowers filled her nose again as she squeezed her back and pulled away to look into her tired and booze-tinged blue eyes.

“I’ll do better, Laney, I promise. Just don’t hold me to anything too crazy, okay?”

“Okay, okay, nothing too crazy, got it. Just, you know, answer my texts and calls maybe? And please eat more, I miss that beautiful dancer butt you had.”

With an eye roll and one last squeeze of Laney’s hands in hers, Anna turned towards the door and away from her best friend, away from the music still playing from the makeshift dance floor in the living room, away from a social situation that would’ve caused her to hyperventilate just thinking about it from her couch in her apartment weeks ago.

Progress? Something like progress.

The night air greeted her flushed cheeks with a pleasant chill that sent small shivers down her arms and legs. She heard the door shut as Sam followed her down the stairs onto the sidewalk. The sounds of the party left them in the somewhat quiet outdoors.

Cars driving through rain-soaked streets, their shoes splashing through puddles on the sidewalk, far-off conversations of other late-night strollers—it all combined together in a soothing melody that kept her spirits and mood light. Not to mention the lingering buzz from her several glasses of wine was still keeping her heart focused on the feelings of the carefree fun of moving her body with Sam’s.

But there was a gnawing at the back of her mind. The thought of how she would feel after having a few hours of sleep, when the sun would be up and another day would start. The feeling that there would be some immense regret about having danced with a guy at a party full of people who were mostly cops, people who worked with cops and people who were married to cops.

She’d question what she wore, why she went, why she didn’t talk to anyone but Greg, Laney and Sam, and if that made her appearance at the party that much, much worse. Maybe the crippling questions would come, maybe they wouldn’t.

Before her mind could spend any more time traveling down the dangerous paths of her thoughts, both her and Sam slowed to a stop as they rounded a corner and found a good spot to hail a cab on the thoroughfare that was just a few blocks away from Laney’s new house.

They turned to face each other, both basked in the glow of a streetlight. The silence of their short walk hadn’t been uncomfortable—it was as refreshing as the cool air around them. A natural, easy quiet that slowly started to fall away as they looked at each other with smiles appearing on their faces.

Words came to her lips first as she rather bashfully tucked her hands into her jacket pockets and subtly swayed side to side.

“Another successful outing that didn’t end with me in tears. You’re starting to rack up quite the track record, lawyer Sam.”

“You know, if you keep reminding me I’m a lawyer, I’ll have to keep reminding you about Laney’s little comment, miss Anna’s-got-ass.”

A laugh barked out from her lips as she shook her head from side to side and shrugged her shoulders.

“I refuse to acknowledge the existence of this supposed dancer ass Laney speaks of. To put it in your terms, it’s hearsay.”

“Touche, miss Anna. After a night of wine, dancing and great conversation, you are still sharp as ever.”

“Don’t let me fool you. It is many hours past my bedtime and I'm seconds away from being a yawning, uninteresting and dull person.”

“Impossible. I don’t believe it.”

An oncoming blur of yellow just over his shoulder caught her eye, and she reflexively raised her arm to hail the cab.

“Believe it, Bailey. Maybe someday you’ll get to see it unfold right before your very eyes.”

“I hope I do.”

His words brought a fierce blush to her cheeks, and in an effort to conceal her body’s knee-jerk reaction and sudden fluttering of butterflies in her stomach, she found herself stepping forward, closing the distance between them and wrapping her arms around his back.

How her mind decided that hugging was somehow better than him seeing he blush was beyond her comprehension. But there was no turning back as she took in his warmth, the solidness of his muscles, the smell of his natural musk and cologne as she rested her head against his shoulder.

His arms encircled her shoulders, giving her a gentle squeeze and rubbing her arms, causing an unforeseen wave of comfort to push her embarrassing blush far from her mind.

Their heads rested together, and the calmness that swept over her was a foreign feeling. It was the antithesis of hugging Ben. With Ben, it always felt like she had to hold him a little tighter because she wasn’t sure when she’d see him again, due to the nature of his job and general busyness. He was always in a hurry, giving her quick squeezes as he rushed off to get to work or to get home or to meet up with friends.

Hugging Sam was slow. It was easy. It was something she felt like she could melt into and enjoy for a long while. Especially as his thumbs kept gently caressing the back of her arms, rhythmically moving up to her shoulders and back down to her elbows.

It was only the honking of the cab that drew them apart. She quickly busied her hands with reaching for the cab door after they dropped from the warmth of Sam’s back. She turned before ducking inside, ready to thank him for going with her and being the crutch she needed to navigate a social outing without falling into her depression or anxiety.

But he beat her to speaking. Hands freshly tucked into the pockets of his coat, he asked, “Can I count on seeing you again next week?”

She considered his question for a second before smiling back at him as he stood in the mixing glows of streetlights and the stoplight.

“I mean, I’ve already got your handkerchief, and no parties to drag you to, which would mean we’d be seeing each other without a reason or plan. I would just have to want to see you.”

“Do you think you’ll just want to see me?”

“I guess we’ll see. Have a good night, Sam. Thank you. For everything. I had a really wonderful time.”

“Good night, Anna. Thank you for this evening. Hopefully I don’t have to wait too long for the jury to deliver a verdict on whether you want to see me or not.”

“Let’s hope for a quick deliberation then, mister Bailey.”

And with that, she swung the door to the cab shut and settled into the well-worn seat and warm, musty air. She prattled off her address and leaned her head against the window as she gazed out at the passing buildings, lights and people.

It wasn’t long before her eyes drifted closed. Her mind conjured images of Sam standing on the wet sidewalk, hand in his pockets with a soft and sweet look on his face. She could feel phantom touches of his fingers on her arms, of the spot where his head had rested against hers.

Little did Sam know, the verdict was already in. When exactly she’d let him in on that fact, she didn’t know. The outcome of the night brought a smile to her lips as she reveled in the fact that she wasn’t crying, wasn’t sinking into an abyss of horrible feelings or having painful flashbacks.

She just simply was. And that’s exactly how she felt as she got to her building, locked herself into her apartment, crawled into bed and met sleep with a peaceful mind.