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Beckett

The drive home up the coast back to Manhattan seemed to take forever

I alas up, I checked ivingme to come back

She didn’t and I couldn’t blame her

How could I explain?

I tried to convince ht aere sound but I knew they rang hollow Sohot and thankless one and I arrived horet

On top of that, the first few days back in Hell’s Kitchen were just that – hell

My business schedule was so busy with s and conferences for the next week that I hoped I’d be able to blot Miranda coret filled me that I couldn’t shake – not with exercise, not with bourbon – not with anything

I met up with Casey for dinner after work on Wednesday She wanted toup ork to take tireed to go to our favorite restaurant for dinner before returning to the office to catch up on some paperwork We met in the bar for a drink while aited for a table

“So fill me in,” she said as she sipped her bourbon “Tell ht”

“I can’t do anything,” I said and downed hed as the bourbon burned downthe heat “I fucked it up so totally, nothing can fix things”

“Nonsense,” she said and punchedcan be fixed, if you try hard enough”

I shook o to Miranda and tell her that I’m the reason her husband died? That he was killed in a horrible accident saving my life? That I went to t

he bar and decided to flirt with her instead of telling her who I was and why I was there? That I kept on deceiving her while I pursued her, and finally succeeded in seducing her, fucking her brains out inwithout a word?”

“Wow,” Casey said and pulled back, giving me the evil eye “You really did fuck it up”