The Probability of Us

Chapter 1

One

AUGUST CURRENT DAY (FRIDAY)

T here are plenty of bars in Hartford that are more popular—and much nicer—than The Dizzy Acorn. But ever since we stumbled across this cramped, hole-in-the-wall bar eight years ago, we haven’t gone anywhere else.

From the outside, you wouldn’t know this place was here. The skinny, brick building has windows on either side of a red door that give off townhouse vibes, and there’s only a small sign beside the door with their logo—an acorn, with wisps of air curling around it, as if it was spinning, and the name in small block letters below it. It’s on a quiet street, almost as if it wants to stay hidden, but most of the patrons have been coming here for years, just as we have.

I smile as I open the door and I’m hit with a wave of sound and humidity. It’s a small room, and the décor only makes it feel more haphazard. The brick walls are covered with antique photos and rusty memorabilia that are barely visible in the warm, dim lighting. There are too many tables squeezed into the left two-thirds of the room, and since I made it here later than I’d originally planned, all of the free space between them and the bar on the right side of the room is packed with people waiting for tonight’s entertainment to start.

There’s a small open space at the back of the room that houses karaoke on Monday, trivia on Thursday, and on Friday—like tonight—a local want-to-be DJ. He’s still setting up in the corner, and after catching a quick glimpse, I don’t have high hopes for tonight’s music. Any other night of the week, the space ends up used as a dancefloor that Ali loves dragging us onto.

I make my way through the crowd, pushing past groups of people shouting in order to hear each other, and hoards of people crowding the bar trying to catch the attention of one of the three bartenders who never appear stressed no matter how packed this place gets. One of them notices me in the crowd where I’m currently boxed in by a big group looking for more drinks and shoots me a sympathetic smile before turning to help the next guest. The workers here all know our group by now. If not by name, then because of how loud we can get.

“Excuse me,” I yell, as I finally find space to push through the crowd. But instead of continuing, I freeze. My eyes catch on the small chalkboard hanging beside the bar and I gulp.

The Dizzy Acorn Trivia Ranking

I generally avoid looking at that part of the bar for this very reason—to avoid this very feeling. The top five rankings change frequently—the smeared chalk behind the names makes them harder to read each time they change. But the name in first place is still as clear as ever, and still hurts me even after all this time.

The Summers

I quickly avert my eyes and after a deep breath I keep moving, leaving all thoughts of him behind.

“Analise.” Will sees me first and smiles, then three other faces turn my way, and I can’t help my grin.

“Sorry I’m late,” I say as I plop down in the empty chair, flustered from the throng of people. Ali slides me an ice-cold beer and I shoot her a grateful expression, taking an immediate sip and letting out a sigh that makes everyone chuckle.

“If you’d have just stayed at Triniti with us, you would’ve been on time,” Sterling prods, lifting his hand to flick my slicked-back bun. I came here right from work, so I’m still in a plum pantsuit while everyone else had time to change into casual clothes.

Across the table, Ali and Trent’s eyes go wide and they freeze, waiting for my reaction. Even Will looks hesitant behind Sterling and it makes me feel as pathetic as ever.

Will and Sterling have been together for two years now.

He left six years ago.

Will shouldn’t know anything about him or what happened. Saying the name of the company we all met at shouldn’t still trigger me.

So, I place a small smile on my face and pretend it doesn’t.

I ignore their reactions, and instead say, “And I miss you guys every day.”

I met Ali, Sterling, and Trent eight years ago. We were all in the Actuarial Department at Triniti Insurance—it was my first job out of college and Ali invited me out to lunch on my first day with her, Trent, and Sterling. We’ve been friends ever since.

But with him , it was different.

He became part of our group because of me. He was four years older than me, just beating out Trent as the oldest in our group, but quickly we all became inseparable. After he left, working at Triniti just wasn’t the same. Staring at his desk all day sent me spiraling into a dark place, and everyone agreed leaving was the best thing for me. And since Hartford is the insurance capital of the U.S., it wasn’t hard to find a new actuarial job.

It ended up being for the best since I was introduced to the concept of value-based care at that new job, and without it I’d never have ended up where I am now—Chief Actuary and Vice President of Transcend Consulting. Our firm specializes in the strategy and implementation of value-based care contracts which aim to improve patient outcomes, quality of care, and reduce costs by tying provider payments to the outcome of their patients, instead of just paying for the quantity of visits. I love the work I do—being at the forefront of innovation in the health insurance space makes me feel like I’m making a difference.

“You learn anything new about the company that’s acquiring yours?” Ali asks, and my smile falls into a frown. I finish my beer and shoot Trent a grateful look when he offers to brave the crowd and grab another round for the table. “What’s it called again?”

“Vi . . .” Sterling starts, but his voice trails off. “It definitely starts with a V.”

“Vitality Health,” I grumble.

I was shocked when Clara, the founder and president of Transcend, announced we were being acquired by a health-tech startup looking to center their strategy around value-based care contracts. Considering I manage most of the financial work for the company, and am responsible for strategy, it makes me nervous not having been a part of this deal. Clara is brilliant but has a tendency to make decisions based on emotions and skip over details—that’s my specialty. It’s why we make such a good team.

I met Clara through a friend of a friend in the business. Value-based care was still relatively new to the insurance world, and everyone was trying to figure out how to implement it effectively. When I left Triniti, I ended up in a role that developed the value-based care programs for that company and learned quickly. I believe in the work, and I’m good at it. Coming up with new strategies or how to implement them was something that I could do, and do well, and Clara wanted to ask me a few questions as she considered starting a consulting firm. We worked well together, and I knew that to make a larger impact, we needed to centralize these programs, so I took a job with her, and we started working out the logistics of a primary care model before moving onto other specialties.

The first few years were a grind. We not only had to convince people that we could do it better and achieve better savings—but then had to prove it. It started as just a small team cranking out these designs and reporting, but as we met and surpassed our goals, more companies wanted to hire our services, or join our existing programs. We quickly became known as the best value-based care consulting company, and we grew like crazy. I take so much pride in what we created—it’s beyond what either of us imagined and I’m worried this deal could change that.

“See, I knew it—started with a V,” Sterling says, turning to beam at Will who pats his hand and kisses his cheek. Sterling met Will two years ago when we were bar hopping because The Dizzy Acorn was closed. They got engaged earlier this year and are planning a November wedding.

“Brilliant as always, my love,” Will says, but rolls his eyes at me when Sterling’s not looking. I start to laugh but cover it with a cough when Sterling looks over. He narrows his eyes and glances between us.

I clear my throat and keep talking before either of us gets in trouble. “But no, I haven’t learned anything new about them.” Even though a meeting about the merger is what made me late today. “Their executives are coming down for the next two weeks to help facilitate the transition, and since we don’t have a C-suite of executives, Clara pulled me in to help show their CFO around while they’re here.”

“Is he at least cute?” Ali asks, brows raising, and I laugh.

“The only thing I know is his name is Mitch.”

Trent returns with more beers and we each grab ours. We’ve been doing this long enough to know what everyone’s favorite is. Blue Moon for me, Stella Artois for Ali, Guinness for Will, and Sterling and Trent are still making their way through the ever-changing list of IPAs.

“That has potential.” She raises her beer toward me before taking a sip and I shake my head with a laugh before sipping my own.

“What’s new with you guys?” I ask, directing the attention away from me. Talking about this deal sours my mood.

I listen to everyone’s updates with a smile on my face, trying to avoid thinking about work, but without much luck. Sterling and Trent still work in the same actuarial department where we all met, but Ali switched over to finance after a few years. She switched before she and Trent finally got together, and it’s good she did because Triniti is extremely strict about dating within the department. I learned that the hard way . . .

It’s not until Sterling says, “Rob got fired,” that I completely forget about everything else. The words are so unexpected that I almost spit out my drink and end up in a coughing fit when it goes down the wrong pipe.

Everyone watches me with worry, but my eyes are still wide with shock, and as soon as I can speak again, I say, “No fucking way.” It comes out scratchy and hoarse and makes me cough all over again.

Trent nods, affirming the story and a smile grows on my face. With how many bullets Rob has dodged over his career, I’m surprised Triniti finally gave him the boot.

It’s about time.

“What’d he do this time? Try to take credit for a man’s work?” I snort, mostly joking.

But when I look between Trent and Sterling, who have both pressed their lips together, I realize it’s not a joke at all. My mouth pops open when Trent finally says, “Basically, yeah.”

Some of my smugness is gone, replaced with anger. “Right. Because when he did it to me, he just got moved to a different project and ended up getting promoted a few months later. But God forbid he steals a man’s ideas. That’s completely unacceptable.”

“Oh, trust me,” Sterling says, “everyone who’s been here since it happened to you said the same thing.”

Trent nods again and I do my best not to think about the man who stood up for me eight years ago when it happened. But after seeing the trivia board earlier, he’s already fresh in my mind.

“It turns out the analyst whose ideas he stole is the nephew of the CEO, and that’s the only reason he actually got fired for it,” Trent adds, as Ali and I both say, “What?!” and Will leans back and sips his drink like he’s watching a soap opera.

“I haven’t heard that part,” Ali says, wide-eyed.

“Rumors about it have been going around all day,” Sterling says. “But it didn’t get confirmed until we were heading out.”

“What goes around, comes around,” I mumble, and at that Ali raises her bottle.

“To that piece of shit finally getting what he deserves,” she says, and we all clink glasses and laugh.

The music abruptly stops—somehow making it seem louder in here—the chatter bouncing around the room, signaling that the DJ is about to start. The entire crowd gets quieter in response, but when his set begins, my earlier assumption proves to be right. The music is not good, at all, making us all groan in response.

* * *

It’s late enough that the bar is clearing out and the DJ is tearing down his set-up. The bar’s usual playlist is blasting through the speakers again and we’re all relieved to hear the mainstream pop music.

That may have been the worst set we’ve ever heard, and we’ve sat through some rough sets. It was so bad we considered leaving halfway through, but this is our spot, so instead, we turned it into a drinking game where we’d drink whenever it somehow got worse.

I haven’t drank this much in a long time .

I’m talking to Sterling and Will, slightly slurring my words, when the next song starts playing over the speakers. With more people starting to leave the bar for the night, it’s one of the first songs we can hear clearly.

“Oh no,” Trent breathes. I assume he didn’t want me to hear that, but I do, just as I realize what song is playing and I freeze.

“What is it?” Ali asks him, but her face blanches just as tears spring to my eyes. I’m not sober anymore and “Cruel Summer” by Taylor Swift steals all the breath from my chest. I can’t ignore it anymore. I can’t push him out of my head.

“Summer,” I whisper, and it breaks the dam holding back my emotions. “I was his Summer.”

I’m too drunk to care that I’ve sucked all the fun out of the air.

I can’t breathe, and something has to fill my lungs.

“Why’d he leave me?” My lips tremble as tears start to roll down my cheeks. “Why didn’t he ask me to go with him?”

Ali sighs sympathetically at me, but mumbles to Trent, “It’s been a while since she’s been drunk enough to bring him up. I thought we might’ve been past it.”

They’re all looking at me like those were rhetorical questions, but I want to know the answers. Not knowing is what’s holding me back from moving on, because it still doesn’t make sense to me, six years later.

“I thought he was going to propose,” I cry, all the pain in my chest exploding with the words. It’s been tearing me apart, over and over, since that day—like a volcano that starts spewing lava again just when you think it might be dormant. “But instead, he left. Who does that?”

“Oh, honey.” Sterling puts his arm around me and I lean into him. I feel more like a child right now than someone about to turn thirty, but I let him comfort me until my tears slow.

“I’m a catch, right?” I look up at his deep-brown skin and bleached, buzzed hair, eyes-wide, desperate. “You’d marry me, wouldn’t you, Sterling?”

My body shakes with his when he chuckles, and he reaches out to grab my hand and raise it to his lips. “If Will hadn’t asked me first, I’d be all yours.”

He winks and I smile into his chest as my eyes flash up to Will, who’s laughing warmly at the interaction. Sterling couldn’t have found a better partner, or addition to our group.

“Thank you,” I murmur.

Now that we’re quiet, I can hear Ali and Trent’s conversation as they talk amongst themselves.

“Maybe we should set her up with your one friend from college, babe,” Ali says to Trent.

“You really want to set her up with someone when she still cries like he left yesterday?” he replies. “It’s been, what, six years? I don’t know if she’s ever going to get over it at this point.”

“She only cries over him when she’s drunk,” Ali says, and it’s technically true. But just because I’ve stopped crying over it, doesn’t mean I don’t still think about it, about him. I’ve become desensitized to the pain his memory causes, but that doesn’t mean the pain isn’t there.

Maybe Trent’s right, maybe I’ll never get over it.

I don’t want to hear what they’re going to say next, so I cut in. “I can hear you, you know.”

Ali gives me a sad, pitying smile. “Usually, when you get like this, you don’t remember it the next day.”

Again, not true. I wish I could forget, but I just pretend I don’t remember because it’s easier than having to talk about it with them sober and have them realize just how in love I still am with the guy that shattered my heart to pieces.

“Well, if that’s the case, has he posted anything new on social media?” I ask. Ali doesn’t like to tell me about it, but I know she keeps tabs on him for me. I refuse to download those apps just to stalk my ex, even though I almost have a thousand times.

She sighs, and because she thinks I won’t remember, she tells me, “He mentioned something about flying this weekend, but no mention of where he’s going.”

The knot in my stomach loosens fractionally—it wasn’t about another girl.

That’s the update I’m dreading hearing.

As the song fades out, I force myself to stop talking about him and pretend my drunken brain has focused on a new topic, but really, it’s just replaying every memory we have in this place. There’s one that’s playing more frequently than the rest and it’s slowly fracturing every other thought I’m having. A few feet away from where we’re sitting is where he kissed me for the first time and I don’t think I’ll forget that night for as long as I live.

After closing the bar down, we say goodbye to Trent and Ali who head to their new apartment on the West side of town, and Sterling and Will drop me off at my building on their way home—we both live in the Northern boroughs.

“Call us if you need anything,” Sterling says before I walk into the small lobby. I smile gratefully at them and wave before heading straight to the elevator. Once I get in my room, I slip into one of the T-shirts in my middle drawer and pray that darkness is the only thing that finds me in my sleep.

But he’s waiting for me, with his squinty-eyes and sunshine smile, just as he always is.