if that was your ring.” There. I had everything in the open now. She knows it all.
Her bright blue eyes look sad. Or maybe just let down. Is there a difference between the two emotions? “I’m glad you did,” she finally says, breathing slowly. I envy her ability to breathe normally, but not her sadness. Sure, Devereux used me, but that’s on him. Norah’s pain, I can’t, nor do I want to, understand what it’s like to be married to someone, thinking that you’re building a life together only to have them creating one without you. That’s fucked up on so many levels.
I’m just about to say something when I hear the door open.
Please don’t be Devereux!
“Well, it’s not freaky fast, but it’s here. I got you a ham and cheese, and you’re going to eat it,” Avie says, pushing through the door, a bag of food in his arms. He notices Norah and smiles. “Oh, uh, sorry. She hates the food here. No offense.”
Norah steps back and taps her finger to the screen she’d been examining my chart on. It turns black. “None taken. The food here is awful.” With a final sympathetic look, she moves toward the door. “I’ll check on you later.”
Avie hands me my sandwich from Jimmy Johns. “Do you know her?”
I unwrap the sandwich and peel off the tomatoes. “That’s Devereux’s wife.”
He snorts as he takes a seat next to the window, his features the epitome of a man running on a few hours of sleep. In fact, I’m not sure how much he’s slept this week. Especially since he rushed me to the hospital at three a clock this morning. “No shit?”
“Yep.” I watch him, his attention on his phone.
I stare at the wall, then the sandwich. Believe it or not, I’m nervous about talking to Avie. He’s always been sort of a father figure to me, so naturally, I’m a little concerned he’s going to be upset I’ve been digging around in the books. So I stall and deter my thoughts with “Who’s running the bar?”
“Mal’s taking care of everything for today.”
I think about the bank statements I found. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
He looks up from his phone. “That Devereux was married? Like I fuckin’ knew.”
I pick at the paper wrapper on my sandwich. I know what his reaction is going to be. He doesn’t like it when I worry about anything other than staying healthy. Which, I’m doing a pretty shitty job at these days. “No, that Fletcher gave you the money for the bar.” I peek up at him, waiting for the livid expression I know will follow.
Only, he doesn’t look at me. He keeps his eyes on his phone, and maybe it’s designed that way. Maybe he’s hiding more than I realize. “Does it matter?”
“Yes, it matters.” I cough, my breathing heavy. “He’s an old man, Avie. How’d he even get that kind of money?” I think about everything I know about Fletcher, and it’s not much. He moved from Raymond to Westport not long before my parents passed away, and as far as I knew, he’s a retired fisherman who has some kids, had a wife at one time, but money… that kind of money, no. How could he? He walks around in wrinkled flannels and holey overalls.
Avie turns to me but flinches, a sudden hardness clouds his face as he curses under his breath. “You don’t need to concern yourself with it. I took care of it. I’ve been taking care of it my entire life.”
He’s so frustrating. Angrier than I intend to, I take a bite of my sandwich, the effects of the medicine they gave me earlier kicking in. I chew slowly. “Are you fucking Mal?”
“Jesus Christ.” He exhales through flared nostrils, leaning forward. His elbows rest on his knees.
“Avie.” I sigh, shifting uncomfortably. “What are you doing?”
“No. I’m not,” he finally replies. I can tell by his expression he’s not lying.
“So what’s going on with you and Presley.”
“You need to stay out of that,” he warns, without looking at me.
“I’m worried about you.”
Standing, he snorts, straightening his posture and shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “Don’t.”
“Maybe I need to,” I muse between coughs. “When was the last time you had someone worry about you?”
He shrugs. “I’m not who I’m concerned about.” He steps back, but I reach for his hand. He stares at me. “I can’t lose you, J. So you need to have a talk with your lungs and tell