“When Alec interviewed him, he came out singing his praises. And then I met him and honestly thought he was the strangest guy I’d ever met. It’s like, he’s there but he’s not there. Ya know?”

“Lights are on, but—”

“No one’s home.”

They both chuckled.

This was nice. They were actually maintaining a conversation. Interesting.

“Exactly.”

Silence fell over them, different than any that had ever swallowed them at work, easy and not remotely awkward. The warmth of the bar was comfortable, and the alcohol had left a pleasant buzz. Maybe she didn’t dislike Frazer as much as she had thought. She thought back on the last week—maybe it was less arrogance that she had, and more a healthy heaping of self-confidence.

“Frazer, what in the hell brought you back to a bar at eleven o’clock? Didn’t I see you leave hours ago?”

The shrug in response screamed nonchalance; as did the slow sip of bourbon that followed. “I didn’t really feel like going home. Do you ever feel like that?”

Cocking her head, Cora stared at her a touch more intently than she had intended. “I get that. But I like being home normally. Alec’s out this evening, though.”

Lies were a thing Cora had never been comfortable with. They got you in trouble, buried you in deep. The past few years, though, she had been telling many lies. They came easily, slid off her tongue so often they didn’t even taste bitter anymore.

No, Mum, I’m fine.

It’s okay.

I know you love me.

Alec’s just not coming because he’s working…

“Do you guys have a white picket fence?” Frazer asked. Her lips curled up just slightly.

“Um, yeah?” Cora blinked at her. What did that have to do with anything?

“A dog?”

“We used to have a cat.” The grin on Frazer’s lips was catching, and Cora found herself mirroring it. “What?”

“You have the 1950s dream.”

Cora snorted and drank her wine, her gaze inside her glass. “Sure.”

They lapsed back into silence.

Her cheeks warm, Cora felt Frazer’s gaze back on her. “You okay?” Frazer asked.

“I’m good.” Cora’s gaze stayed on her wine.

“Okay.”

Frazer looked away. Cora was just glad Frazer didn’t want to push it. With the mood she was in, instead of spilling lies, she might have accidentally dropped truth all over the bar top. There was no sweeping that up.

“Are you the kind of ‘good’ that wants to drink a lot?” Mischief laced the words.

Instead of the no that she meant to say, Cora found herself saying, “Yes.”

“Excellent. Me too.” She turned to the bartender. “Two tequilas?”

At the horrified look Cora was directing at her, Frazer shrugged. “What? It is before midnight, and we are adults.”

She hadn’t had tequila since university.

Why not?

* * *

“The thing about potatoes, Frazer, is that you can do so much with them.”

Frazer was starting to think she had accidentally gotten her boss’ wife drunk. The woman she was relying on to save her project was quite plastered. That had not been the plan. When Frazer spun on her chair to raise a question, the room lurched, and the thought that maybe she had gotten herself drunk too struck her. A shrug almost made her unbalance again. She was allowed to be drunk. Tomorrow was a day of paperwork, no patients.