“Got it.” He extended the tweezers toward me, the piece of glass marbled with blood. “I need a Band-Aid.”

I pointed to the medicine cabinet. “Right there.”

He rifled through the cupboard. Grabbing the box and holding them toward me, he cocked his eyebrow. “Really Grace? Barbie Band-Aids?”

“Don’t make fun.” I grinned. “Barbie makes me feel better.”

“Well, let’s hope she does the trick again today.” He crouched, grabbed my foot, and propped it onto his knee. He dried my foot with a towel, blew on it gently, and stuck the hot-pink and yellow bandage over the wound. “All done.”

Our faces were close, too close. I was afraid he could smell the whiskey on my breath, so I kept my mouth shut tightly. I took a closer look at the Band-Aid. Barbie was jumping for joy as rainbows shot from her outstretched arms.

The front door slammed and I jerked away.

“Grace?” Jack called. “What the fuck happened in here?”

“Oh no,” I muttered.

“Who’s that?” James asked.

“My boyfriend.”

I hopped up from the tub and limped down the hall. James followed behind. “Hey,” I called, moving toward Jack. “Sorry, dropped a glass. Cut myself. I’ll clean it up.”

“Jesus, Grace, are you okay?” Jack was staring at me as I hobbled to the kitchen to get the broom. He was quickly beside me and grabbed it from my hand. “Let me do that.”

For a moment, I forgot James was there. Then I realized he was standing behind me.

“Hey, I’m James.” He extended his hand to Jack before I had a chance to introduce them.

“Sorry. Jack, this is James. James, Jack. I ran into James outside.” Don’t mention the cat, I willed. For the love of God, don’t mention the cat.

“How’s it going, man?” Jack spoke in a voice that was deeper than usual.

“James is an old friend.” I patted him on the shoulder, the effects of the coke starting to kick in. My speech was speeding up. “We grew up together. I haven’t seen him in years. Since I left home, I guess. Right?”

Jack was standing very straight, with his shoulders pulled back. It was the same way he stood when someone critiqued his art. Or after someone decided not to buy one of his pieces.

“I invited him in for coffee.” I tried to ease the tension. “Speaking of, I’ll put the kettle on.”

“You know what, I should actually get going.” James was already making his way to the door. “I have to head back to work.”

“Of course.” I followed him to the door. “Thanks for, you know, cleaning me up.” I lifted my foot, staggering.

James extended his hand again in an attempt to catch me, but I caught myself first. “No problem.” He eyed Jack, who was hovering around the corner. “It was really nice seeing you. Maybe we can get together and catch up soon?”

“I’d like that. Bye, James.” I watched as he walked down the steps, shutting the door slowly behind him.