Drinks tonight? I need to get hammered.

Charlie: & what will ur lovely Emma say to me getting you belligerently drunk? I'd hate to make a poor first impression ;)

2:24pm

Tommy: She left.

2:25pm

I'll pick u up & we'll hit the old haunts

3:10pm

Tommy: No shenanigans, just drinks.

Strong drinks.

I've got u mate.

* * *

My shoulders slid slowly to the left, bringing my body down with them until my hand caught itself and roughly pushed me back up and into the smooth leather of the booth. I stared down at my hand only to realize I had suddenly sprouted three more hands. I cursed and-with one of my now many hands-fumbled for my phone.

Emma had packed up her apartment that afternoon and caught the evening train to Kerry. Apparently, she'd bought herself a ticket before heading over to my office.

My rage following that realization had been hard to swallow.

She refused my offer of a ride to the station, which I agreed was probably for the best. Neither of us would be too keen to see our tearful separation plastered across the pages of the magazines. Still, it had left me unbearably alone in my office.

I spent the afternoon staring at documents I needed to review, but my eyes took none of it in. My mind was elsewhere, heading towards the station, boarding a train... without a backwards glance.

She left me. The words hammered through my mind repeatedly.

She left me.

Emma left me. I told her I loved her and... left.

The moment she walked out of my office, I was immediately painfully aware of her absence yet the concept of it still felt surreal. The agonizing realizations crashed over me in waves, and with each new wave, another piece of recognition would fall into place.

She left me.

She chose Kerry.

She chose Kerry over me. She made her choice before she even stepped foot in my office.

She'd known all along, and a small, undeniable part of me had known, too. The night before on the way to the event... It was right there in her forced smiles and carefully chosen words. She'd known she would be leaving and yet she'd still gone through the motions without any intention of ever-

I swayed again as I focused my attention on dialing her number. It rang only once before she picked up.

"Tommy?"

"She didn't ask about Trisha!" I shouted over the thumping music.

"What?" My sister's voice crackled back.

"The stylist!" I offered as an explanation.

"Where are you?"

"She didn't ask me about paying for a stylist!"

Cynthia was silent, and after a few moments, I began to wonder if the call had dropped.

"I know..." She murmured. I had to crank up the volume on my phone to hear her over the DJ's scratching. "I know she didn't, Tommy."

I nodded, forgetting she couldn't see me. "I didn't see it coming."

"Well you didn't see her coming either, did you?" Her voice was still strained with worry, but I could tell she was making an effort to lighten it. "A meet cute in a bookstore, honestly who has that these days?"

"I did..." I moaned. "I had that."

"Tell me where you are, and I'll come get you." There was rustling in the background as she said it.

"I don't wanna go home," I slurred.

"Then tell me where you are, and I'll come join you."

I dragged my eyes up to the center of the dance floor where Charlie was dancing wildly with two women, practically throwing them around the crowded floor and snapping them vigorously back into him.

"Overcompensating arse..." I burped.

"Tommy," Cynthia's voice cut back into my attention. "Tell me the address, and I'll be straight over."

"Nah," I sighed heavily. "I'm too much of a sad drunk tonight."

"You're my brother." You're never too much of anything-not to me." She said kindly, before adding more sternly: "Now tell me the name of the club, you idiot."