CHAPTER 39
Elena
Friday night.
And I was at a bar.
That fact alone felt slightly ridiculous if I thought about it for too long.
Not because I hated bars—I didn’t. I used to like them.
A lot. But after pregnancy, childbirth, and a year of measuring life in nap schedules and bedtime routines, places like this started to feel distant.
Not forbidden. Just unfamiliar. Like an old dress that still fit, but hadn’t been worn in a while.
The bar was warm and dimly lit, the kind of place where conversations blended into low laughter and clinking glasses, where nobody looked twice at a woman sitting comfortably in her own skin.
Jessica sat beside me, relaxed as ever, a glass of wine in hand. Sloane was on my other side, already a little tipsy, laughing too hard at her own stories.
“It’s technically your birthday weekend,” Jessica said, already halfway into her second drink.
Sloane raised her glass. “A toast,” she announced. “To surviving the month-end report—and to Elena! Happy birthday!”
I laughed, shaking my head at her, a fond smile tugging at my lips. “You’re ridiculous.”
Jessica clinked her glass against Sloane’s. “Congratulations, Elena. A hot single mom on her birthday.”
I rolled my eyes. “You’re making it sound dramatic.”
“That’s because it is,” Jessica said. “Divorce is dramatic. Birthdays are dramatic. Bars on Fridays? Peak drama.”
“I’m literally drinking juice,” I pointed out.
Sloane leaned closer, squinting at my glass. “Is that... mint?”
“It’s a mocktail,” I said. “I drove.”
“And you’re sober,” Jessica added, nodding approvingly. “Responsible. Mature. Boring.”
“I prefer alive and well-adjusted,” I said dryly.
I was halfway through my drink when the bartender—Brandon, Jessica’s cousin—set another glass in front of me.
“This is for you,” he said.
I frowned. “I didn’t order—”
“Someone did,” he said, nodding casually toward the far end of the bar.
I followed his gaze.
He sat alone on a high stool, one elbow resting against the counter, posture relaxed in a way that suggested comfort rather than arrogance. Black leather jacket. Dark grey t-shirt underneath.
When our eyes met, he lifted his glass slightly in a silent toast.
Jessica nudged my arm immediately. “Oh my God,” she whispered.
I sighed. “Don’t.”
She grinned. “Single mom. Out at a bar. Being sent drinks. I’m emotionally invested already.”
Still, I gave him a small nod and took a sip of the drink. Citrus and something faintly floral. Whoever had picked it had good taste.
“Safe choice,” I murmured.
“What?” Jessica asked.
“Nothing.”
We went back to talking. Sloane grew louder, more animated, until her phone buzzed and she announced that her boyfriend was outside.
“I should go,” she said, standing a little unsteadily.
After she left, Jessica checked the time and sighed. “I should head out too. It’s late.”
I reached for my bag. “Yeah, me too—”
“You can stay for a while,” she cut in. “Haille’s sleeping at Judy’s tonight, right?” Then her gaze flicked pointedly toward the bar. “You’ll survive.”
“I’m fine,” I said flatly.
I was just about to stand when a presence settled beside us, close enough to be noticed.
“Hey,” he said easily. “Hope I didn’t interrupt.”
“Not at all,” Jessica replied, already smiling a little too widely. “I was just leaving, actually.”
I turned to look at her. Seriously?
She only winked at me, completely unrepentant.
Then, as she slid off her stool, Jessica raised her voice toward the bar. “B! He’s good, right?”
Brandon looked up, took one glance at the man beside me, and gave a casual nod. “Regular,” he said. “You’re good.”
She clapped her hands once, satisfied.
“See?” she said to me. “Vetted.”
She turned to the man with an unapologetic smile. “No offense. I just wanted to make sure.”
He chuckled, unfazed. “None taken.”
“Jessica,” I muttered.
She grabbed her bag, leaning in close enough to whisper, “Text me when you get home.”
Then, louder, to him, “Take care of her.”
“I will,” he said—then paused, glancing at me.
“If that’s okay,” he added. “I mean. You.”
Jessica shot me one last grin and disappeared into the crowd.
He shifted slightly, giving me space. “So,” he said, tone light. “Guess that’s my cue to formally introduce myself.”
I glanced at the empty seat Jessica had left behind, then back at him.
“Seems like it,” I said.
“Mind if I sit?” the man asked.
I turned. Up close, he was disarmingly normal. Not polished. Not intimidating. Just present.
“Go ahead,” I said.
He sat.
“Hope that wasn’t too forward,” he added. “I asked the bartender first.”
I glanced at the drink, then at him. “Do you usually buy drinks for women you don’t know?”
He smiled, a little crooked. “Honestly? No.”
That caught me off guard.
“This is the first time,” he said, then added, “Which probably makes me sound either very honest or very bad at this.”
I blinked, a small, half-amused smile tugging at my lips. “Uh... okay,” I said, trying to keep my tone light.
He continued. “And I promise I’m not trying to be creepy. I just—” He paused, searching for the right phrasing.
“When I saw you... I couldn’t really look away,” he said, then added quickly, “Which—sorry. That sounded worse in my head than it was.”
My cheeks warmed slightly. I let out a soft laugh, more awkward than flattered.
“That’s dangerously close to a line,” I said.
“I know,” he said easily. “I crossed it anyway.”
I shook my head, smiling despite myself, a faint flutter in my chest I wasn’t expecting.
“I’m Tommy,” he said, extending a hand. “Tommy Sullivan.”
“Elena,” I replied, shaking it. “Elena White.”
I had chosen to keep the name after the divorce, and somehow, it felt lighter now.
He smiled. “Your friend did a very thorough background check before leaving.”
“I noticed.”
“She is a good one.”
“She is,” I agreed. “Also very dramatic.”
He chuckled. “I appreciate the caution.”
“I can defend myself,” I said casually.
His brows lifted. “Oh?”
“I have excellent aim,” I added. “And low tolerance for nonsense.”
He laughed. “Good to know. For the record, I’m a cop.”
I paused. “You’re serious.”
“Off duty,” he added quickly. “And before you ask, no, this isn’t a sting.”
I smirked. “Disappointing. Undercover would’ve sounded cooler.”
“It would’ve,” he agreed.
We talked easily after that. Work. Drinks. Why he liked this bar.
“Are you seeing anyone?” he asked, direct but not abrupt.
I didn’t tense. That alone felt like progress.
“Divorced,” I said.
He winced slightly. “Okay. Is this bad timing or perfect timing for me to have bought you a drink?”
I considered that.
“I don’t know,” I answered honestly. “Nothing feels particularly well-timed these days.”
“Fair,” he said. Then, smoothly, he shifted. “Do you come here often?”
“No, this is my first time. Friends dragged me out.” I replied. “Brandon’s Jessica’s cousin,” I added, nodding toward the bar. “The one who just left.”
He glanced over, then chuckled. “That explains why I’ve never seen you before. I’m here a lot. Usually with friends.”
“That explains the clearance with Brandon,” I said, smiling.
He laughed. “Guilty.”
“So why are you here alone tonight?” I asked.
“Maybe I was meant to run into you,” he said easily.
“You’re very smooth,” I said, arching a brow. “Does that ever fail?”
He smiled. “Only when I’m wrong about the chemistry.” He shifted slightly on the stool, not closer, just enough that our arms brushed. Barely. “Tell me if I am,” he said softly.
I glanced at our hands, then back at him. “I will,” I said. “I don’t do polite silence.”
That made him smile. “Good,” he said. “Neither do I.”
He lifted his glass in a small, almost casual gesture. “To comfortable pauses.”
I clinked mine against his. “To not rushing things.” I finished my drink, letting the last sip settle before setting the glass down, then leaned back gently. “I should go.”
“Let me walk you out,” he said.
I shook my head, already sliding off the stool. “It’s okay. I parked nearby.”
“Still,” he said, sliding off his stool. “I’ll walk you to it. No ulterior motives.”
I paused, glancing at him. “You do realize this is the part where I make sure you’re actually a cop, not just very committed to the bit.”
He laughed, real and easy. “That bad, huh?”
“Single mom. I’m cautious now,” I said lightly. “It’s character development.”
“Fair.” He lifted his hands in mock surrender. “Badge is at home. But I can show you my extremely boring work ID next time.”
I smiled as we stepped away from the bar. “Next time,” I repeated, like it was just a word and not a possibility.
“Scout’s honor,” he added. “No weirdness. Just making sure you get to your car.”
“I appreciate that,” I said. “Very on-brand for law enforcement.”
“Hey,” he said. “We do our best.”
We walked toward the exit together, the noise of the bar fading behind us with every step until it was nothing more than a dull hum.
Outside, the air was cooler, quieter, a welcome contrast to the warmth and chatter we’d left behind.
My car was parked just a few steps away, a couple of blocks from the bar.
“This is me,” I said, stopping beside it.
“So,” Tommy said lightly. “Good night?”
“Good night,” I echoed.
There was a pause. It wasn’t awkward, just... unfinished.
He shifted his weight, his hands tucked into the pockets of his jacket. “For what it’s worth,” he said, “I’m glad I bought you that drink.”
I smiled. “Me too.”
The space between us felt suddenly smaller. When he leaned in, it wasn’t sudden. He gave me time, space, a quiet chance to step back, and I didn’t.
The kiss was brief at first. Soft, like he was waiting to see if I would meet him there. I let myself stay in it for a heartbeat, maybe two. I stayed for the comfort of another mouth, another presence that wasn’t a memory.
His hand came up, resting lightly at my waist, hesitant even then, as if he was still asking, still giving me room to choose.
And that was when it hit.
This wasn’t right. It felt… nice, yes. Comfortable. Easy, even. But not right. Not what I wanted. Not who I wanted. And that truth still held too much of me.
I pulled back gently, the distance returning all at once. “I’m sorry,” I said softly.
He didn’t press. Just gave a small, understanding nod.
“You did nothing wrong,” I added, a small smile slipping through.
“I know,” he replied.
“Take care, Tommy,” I said, more certain this time.
“You too, Elena.”