Two more glasses down, and somehow Grace gets me to do a few of her nasty shots. I’m feeling light and free. It’s like floating . . . albeit with cement blocks on my feet.

Zach and Felicia slow dance, and it takes everything within me not to pitch a fit. The feeling I was enjoying dissipates. I hate her. Self-righteous bitch. I hate him. Reckless boy. I hate men because they’re assholes who break your heart and then make you live a life you didn’t want.

I chug the remnants of my Jameson and thank God for the one man who always keeps me feeling good.

Then I look over at Zach, who smiles. Fuck you and your dumb smile. I hate you. I fake smile back and then turn toward Grace with a grimace.

“Why the long f-face?” Grace stutters.

I close my eyes so I don’t have to see them. “I hate her. I really hate her. And she’s ugly.”

Grace looks over and laughs. “Inside and out.”

“Right.” I giggle. “Whatever, I don’t want him anyway. He can keep his stupid girlfriend with her stupid hair and her stupid lips. I don’t even like him.”

“Suuure,” she slurs while falling off the chair. “Crap!”

We burst out in loud fits. Shit, I’m drunk as hell. “How much have we drank?”

“Not enough! Bartendeeeeer!” Grace slams her hand on the bartop. “Get my girl and me another round.”

We take another round of shots, which some very nice man at the end of the bar pays for. Grace and I are now completely blitzed. “Let’s dance!” she yells, or at least I think she does.

Bouncing to the dance floor, we hold on to each other as we do what I think are the right steps. I’ve been doing this my whole life. I’m functioning solely on muscle memory.

At the end of the song, a handsome cowboy grabs me. “Wanna dance?”

“Why the hell not?” I smile.

He holds me close against his body and leads me around the floor. I giggle and rest my head on his chest so I don’t get sick. His hands are strong and firm. Everything I remember about these kind of guys. They’re rough and rugged with muscles to die for. But this cowboy doesn’t know my current baggage, so I let him roam the range a little. Plus, right now . . . I don’t even care.

“You’re Presley Townsend, right?”

“Benson, but yes.”

“Well, you’re as pretty as I remember.”

That stops me for a second. “I know you?”

He laughs as his hand grabs right above my butt cheek. “Honey, I’ve known you my whole life. You were always untouchable though.”

I lift my head to find Zach glaring at me and my dance partner. I return the look briefly before giving my attention back to him. “Well, I’m not untouchable anymore.” I move my hand up his chest slowly.

His lips close in and brush against my cheek. “I see that.”

I turn my head so I can look back at the man who held that role for so long. He gazes down at Felicia, and then she grabs his neck and kisses him. I start to shake and drop my hands. “I don’t feel good. I’ll be back,” I explain and rush to the bathroom. I feel sick, but it’s not the booze.

I take a few minutes to collect myself. He was kissing her, but she’s his girlfriend. It’s irrational and completely insane to think I should care. I was married. I have two kids and clearly had a life after him. But I didn’t ever consider him having the same. My hands hold the sink as I try to get a freaking grip.

My mind goes to the way he stared at me. The way he kissed me. Zach is engrained so deep in my soul I don’t know how to expunge him. I don’t want him in there, because he doesn’t belong to me anymore.

I promise myself I won’t let myself acknowledge any of those feelings. This is just my loss and pain reflecting on the past. The sands of time have fallen and buried Zach and me. Now it’s up to me to find a new hourglass.

I close my eyes and step back, ready to live this new drunken life.

“Watch it.” I hear from behind me.

“Did I step on your foot? Poor thing.” I want to say sorry, but it’s Felicia, so I don’t. I couldn’t care less about hurting her right now. Plus, I’m not really certain that I’m speaking in coherent sentences.

Grace opens the door. “Pres! There you are!”

Felicia looks at her before returning to me. “Zach’ll rub it. He rubs all my pains away.” She shrugs. “I bet you remember how that feels. Or maybe you don’t.”

I go from annoyed to hostile in no time. “Fuck you.” I step toward her with my fists balled. “I’m pretty sure he’d much rather be rubbing me than you.”

Oh, my God. I actually said that.

By the sound of Grace’s gasp, I really did. She comes around behind me and tries to pull me away.

“That’s why he’s here with me?”

“Is that why he kissed me?” Keep it up, Presley. You’re on a roll. I want to punch myself. I shouldn’t have said that. I shouldn’t be letting her bother me. I need to leave and get sober. But for this one second, it feels so good. I’m not bottling anything up or thinking about anything. I’m letting it all out.

Grace yanks me harder toward the door. “Pres, let’s go dance.”

“He already told me.” She crosses her arms. “He told me how he felt nothing when it happened. It reaffirmed you’re his past.”

It hurts me in the depths of my soul where I’ve been hiding all my emotions. It was a stupid mistake that meant nothing. Maybe it was just old times. Maybe it was something else, but there is a small part of me that still loves him. And her saying that . . . cuts me deep.

“You’re a bitch,” Grace says over her shoulder as she pulls me out of the bathroom.

“I want another drink,” I say to Grace. She nods and rubs my back.

Zach is standing right outside the door when we exit. His eyes meet mine, and I’m sure he sees it. “Presley. Are you okay?” The sound of his voice soothes me, even though I don’t want it to. I look at him and remember the good things. The way Zach could make me feel so protected. His heart that he wore on his sleeve. His heart that was mine. I remember the nights he’d hold me in his arms, promising me we’d always be together. The way his lips felt against mine, and how I never wanted to lose that.