The bar smelt like stale beer—probably what regret would smell like if it had a scent.

An involuntary shiver accompanied the thought of the silence in the house. Of the coolness that would creep over her skin. There were nights she woke up with her breath caught in her throat and the feeling that something was constricting her chest. With her heart pounding, Cora would lie in bed, staring at the ceiling as the extreme body heat of the man next to her rolled over her. It felt as if a band were around her chest, tightening more and more.

The sigh that heaved through her body was heavy, and a flush warmed her cheeks. No one could hear her in the bar. Really, she could be here or nowhere and no one would really know.

Morose was not normally something she allowed herself to feel, but tonight she was happy to wallow in her pitifulness.

The door opened. The bell over it was really quite annoying. No one else in the bar seemed to notice it, though. With a start, Cora caught sight of Frazer walking in. Why would she come back here of all places? Deciding not to care, Cora looked back to her drink. The glass was sweating, and the wine was far too dry for her liking. It was a bit sad to sit on her own and watch it warm up—usually that kind of thing was done with company. Almost desperately, she looked up, caught Frazer’s eye and waved.

If she sat alone with her thoughts much longer, she’d go insane.

When Frazer slid into the chair next to her, Cora couldn’t help but throw her a grateful look. “Thanks.”

“Why?”

“For answering my obviously desperate plea.” A glass of bourbon appeared very quickly in front of Frazer after a simple catch of the bartender’s eye. Cora raised an eyebrow. “Come here often?”

The warm, rich chuckle sunk into Cora’s chest. “I used to.”

They lapsed into silence. Their conversations had been restricted to work and one drunken conversation at a Christmas party. Really, their work conversations had only started that week. Cora was realising she knew absolutely nothing about Frazer except that she was good at her job; but even that was spoilt by arrogance.

Yet, for once, Cora didn’t feel the need to fill the silence. It wasn’t oppressive. It wasn’t angry. There was nothing teaming at the seams, nothing itching to tear it all apart the second someone opened their mouth.

“Do you think the on call is any good?”

Cora glanced up in surprise at the question. She blinked heavily. Frazer must mean the on call obstetrician. “Dave?”

“Yeah.”

“How do I put this delicately?” Cora’s brow pressed together, and she took a sip of her wine. “No.”

Frazer slumped in obvious relief against the bar. “Thank God. I thought it was only me that saw it. I was genuinely scared when I was handing over. He looked at me so blankly.”