“Pattie, what, you don’t recognize me?”
“Joe.”
He introduced himself like he owned the place—maybe because, well, he did.
“I was at your wedding, remember? This bar behind me is mine.” Joe pointed over his shoulder, trying to sound casual but coming off just a little too proud.
Patricia glanced back, forcing a polite smile.
She thought, Trust Chelsea to find a spot like this.
“I’ve been divorced from Theo for ages, Mr. Keeble. Maybe you should stop bringing it up.”
Joe’s smile faltered, embarrassment flickering across his face. “Sorry, I didn’t mean anything by it. It just… came out.”
He glanced at Chelsea, who was half-leaning on Patricia, barely holding herself up. “Need a hand?”
“No, thanks,” Patricia said, her voice cool and clipped.
They weren’t close, not even close to close.
Joe had been Theo’s friend. That alone was enough for Patricia to keep her guard up. She was pretty sure he was one of those people who just let things slide back then—like with Nina.
Chelsea picked up on the tension right away. “Wait, this is your loser ex’s friend? Figures. He’s got that look.”
“You guys have been divorced forever, and he still can’t talk about anything but your wedding? What, is he afraid you’ll forget how your ex didn’t even bother to show and left you hanging?”
Chelsea was definitely drunk, but her words were sharp as ever.
She clomped down a couple steps, then shot Joe a glare over her shoulder, her voice dropping low and frosty. “All of you—snakes, rats, the whole pack.”
“Hey, that’s a bit harsh,” Joe protested, trying to laugh it off. “Yeah, I said the wrong thing, but that’s a little much, don’t you think?”
He swore, when he saw Patricia tonight, he just wanted to say hi. Theo hadn’t even crossed his mind.


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