The tears that had threatened spilled down her cheeks. Angrily, she brushed them away while she looked for a place to sit and wait on Olivia, who would no doubt give her another lecture and be oh so disappointed that Chase couldn’t do one simple adulting task.

God, she wanted a drink. The need to erase everything with the sting of vodka clawed inside her. Make it go away.

She found a plastic bench advertising nail salons and insurance companies and wondered if there was a package liquor store in walking distance. Nothing made her forget to feel like vodka did. Except maybe cocaine. She doubted if the cart boy could score her some blow.

“Hey,” she called to the cart guy. “Is there a package liquor store around here?”

The guy shrugged his shoulders.

Yeah. Of course.

Didn’t matter because Olivia’s Volvo appeared like a menace, smoothly gliding into the trash-strewn parking lot. Olivia caught sight of her. Chase bent over and started reciting the serenity prayer in an effort to stave off the craving for booze and drugs. She’d started through the second stanza when Olivia’s pristine running shoes appeared in her line of sight.

Olivia’s hand lightly brushed her back. “Are you okay?”

Chase nodded.

“Good.”

Olivia didn’t say anything else for a few seconds. Just stood beside her, which was weird but also comforting.

“I couldn’t finish checking out. Here’s the card.”

Olivia took the proffered plastic. “Was there a problem?”

“No. I just suck and can’t adult. I’m going to the car. The stuff is at register five. I got everything on the list.” Chase rose and started toward the Volvo.

Olivia grabbed her arm. “Let’s go back in together.”

“I don’t want to go back in there. They’re assholes. They called me names.”

“Who did?”

“Never mind. Just get the groceries, and let’s go back to Bumfuck.”

Olivia shook her head. “No. Pretend you’re a mother who has to feed her two children. Do you walk away empty-handed? Or do you humble yourself and get what you need to take care of your family?”

Chase rolled her eyes. “I don’t have any kids.”

“You’re an actress. Pretend.” Olivia walked toward the entrance, stopped, and waited on her. “Come on. We’re going to figure this out.”

Chase didn’t want to go back inside, but she also didn’t want to look like a quitter. “Fine.”

They walked in together, and Olivia headed toward the register where Chase’s cart sat to the side. She looked like a soccer mom about to go at a referee. The nasty man who’d called her a slur stood laughing with the manager, who sacked the guy’s groceries.