I finish my wine and frown. I’m going to need much more of this.

I march out the door and down the stairs to the bar. Keegan’s eyebrow raises when he takes me in and then he cocks his head to the side. “Problem, sweetheart?”

“I want to get drunk.” I hop up onto a stool. “Take the tab out of my paycheck.”

His eyes narrow. “All right then, if it’s drunk you want to be, I can help with that easily enough. Wine?”

“Whiskey.”

He sighs and leans on the bar. “Izzy, what’s bothering you?”

“None of your business.” If I talk about it, I’ll cry, and I’ll be damned if I waste even a single tear on that asshole Troy. “I just want to drink.”

“Okay, then.” He pulls out a highball glass, not a shot glass this time, and pours me a good helping of Irish whiskey.

“Whoa, be careful there, lass,” the man next to me says when I take a big gulp. “That whiskey is for sipping. It’ll go down smooth as silk.”

“What’s your name?” I ask the older gentleman.

“Sam.”

“Well, Sam, thank you for your advice. Are you married?”

“For nearly forty-six years now.”

I grin and pat Sam’s shoulder. “That’s sweet. Do you still like her?”

“Do I like her?”

“Yes.”

“Well, I guess there was a day or two in those years that the liking might have been in question. But the love has only grown every day.”

I nod and feel warmth spreading in my chest. Whether it’s the sweet words from Sam or the whiskey, I’m not entirely sure.

“That’s nice. I’m glad for you, Sam.” I set my glass closer to Keegan and nod at him. “More, please.”

Keegan’s lips press into a line as he pours me some more, but he doesn’t ask again what’s wrong.

I take a big sip, then decide to slow it down a bit so I don’t fall on my face in the next six minutes. My lips tingle, and my head is blissfully cloudy as the band returns from their break and begins a slow, sad Irish song.

Maggie bustles by and offers me a smile. “Hello there. I thought you’d left for the evening.”

“I did, too, but it seems I need to get drunk.”

Her eyes narrow, much like her older brother’s. “Well, we all have those nights, don’t we? Let me know if you need anything. Like food to sop up some of that Jameson.”

“Then I wouldn’t be as drunk, and that would be sad.”

She chuckles and loads her tray with the drinks Keegan placed out for her. “That’s true. I’ll be back.”

She bustles away, and I take another swig of whiskey, then blow out a breath as the liquid burns its way down my throat.