"Man, if you're gonna lie, at least make it believable."
I'm going to kill him. Slowly. But I think about Sarah and their baby and decide to let it go … for now. "Maybe I'm just watching the construction."
"The construction stopped an hour ago, and it was just a carpenter fixing the shelves." Jason's grin widens. "But nice try."
I turn back to the bottles behind the bar, reorganizing them even though they're already organized.
"Something happened to her window?"
My hand stops on a bottle of Jack. "Yeah, Marianne happened."
"Wait, what? What the fuck? Is that why you're drinking this early, and you look like someone kicked your dog?" Jason goes quiet as I recall the events earlier. That's worse than the teasing—when Jason goes quiet, it means he's genuinely pissed. "She did what?"
"You heard me."
"And you told her to leave Tate alone?"
"I told her a lot of things. Not like she has ever listened to me."
Jason runs his hand over his face. "Jesus Christ. I knew Marianne was a piece of work, but that's … Did you call the cops?"
"Tate didn't want to."
"Tate, huh? First name basis now?"
"Shut up."
"What did you tell her?
"Everything." I pour a third whiskey, realize what I'm doing, and put the bottle away. "Marianne. Why she's doing this. What happened between us."
Jason whistles low. "And then?"
"And then nothing."
"Tom."
"Marianne left."
"After?"
My skin prickles hot from collar to chin, probably even the tips of my ears. Jason's gaze flicks down my neck then back to my face, and his eyes widen, the slow, dawning realization, the pieces locking together.
"Holy shit, my brother in Christ."
"Fuck off."
"You didn't."
"Jason—"
"You absolutely did." He's laughing now, full-on laughing. "You kissed her! Is that why?—"
"If you finish that sentence, you're fired or dead. Maybe even in that order."
"You can't fire me. I'm the only person who puts up with your grumpy ass. So what now?"
"Now nothing."