Knocking Boots - Willow Winters Page 0,2

bad. She didn’t use that exact term but it’s what she meant. Once the blood work is done she can tell me just how bad it is.

Just wonderful. I can hardly wait, my inner voice is deadpan and again I keep my mouth shut.

“If you have any further questions, don’t hesitate to call.”

I manage a smile, nodding and when she stands, I do too, gripping my purse with both clammy hands.

A nurse in hot pink scrubs whisks me out to the reception area. “Have a nice day, Miss Campbell,” she tells me, winking before she turns to call her next patient amongst the women seated there. “Mrs. Gray? Shellie Gray?”

“Here!” A woman who looks to be in her early forties with kind wrinkles around her deep brown eyes pushes herself to her feet.

I drift out of the woman’s way, and then the nurse closes the door behind them both. I take a deep breath, giving myself a mental shake, and head out to the parking lot. The pictures of all those babies playing in front of my eyes.

My mind is awhirl with thoughts, most of them depressing. More and more depressing with every step I take. I climb in my white sedan and pull the seatbelt on. With the click of the ignition, the car rumbles to life and I instantly turn the radio off, leaving just the hum of the car to accompany me before pulling out of the parking lot. The downtown Atlanta traffic is just as heavy as my thoughts.

As I sit in traffic on I-85, I stare at the Atlanta skyline. The sun is already setting against the brick buildings. The burned orange and yellow against the blue is peaceful. I sigh. The city was so fun when I was in college, and a great place to be when I was a recent graduate looking for my first serious job. No more retail and interning. No more clubs with my girlfriends and late nights that end up in horrific hangovers.

Now I have a steady, long-term career as a graphic designer in Buckhead and more and more often, I find myself driving to the suburbs. My cramped apartment in Candler Park would be left behind for the easy, laidback lifestyle I’ve found in Vinings, just outside the city’s perimeter if I could afford the move, and the time to actually move. The thought of moving is just one more stressor to deal with. I’m pretty certain the doctor just gave me plenty to stress over.

With my fingers tapping along the leather steering wheel, traffic finally moves at a reasonable pace.

Come to think of it, I haven’t even been at my apartment for more than a night’s sleep or a shower in ages. I haven’t been anywhere in the city, really. The nightlife doesn’t call to me anymore. It’s all work, work, work. I basically live at work, and that’s it.

Well that and my go to bar. Everyone deserves a drink after a long day.

At the moment, all I want is to get lost in a cosmo or martini to finish this day off. And I know just where I want to have that drink — at the hole-in-the-wall bar my coworker Ann showed me a couple of months ago. Mac's bar has a jukebox, plenty of places to sit, and unlike the other bars in Vinings, it serves liquor as well as beer.

Just thinking about it has me parched. Well, that and the bartender, Charlie.

Charlie.

The traffic finally frees up completely, and I’m quick to engage the turn signal and get off at the next exit to drive toward the bar. Maybe Charlie will be there. He usually is and when I get a drink or two in, he’s my confidant. That thought puts a smile on my face. It’s nice to have someone to talk to and as much as Ann is a good friend for gossip, that’s essentially all she does. Gossip.

I jump out of the car in the parking lot of Mac's Tavern, and look at my reflection in the side of the car. Brilliant blue eyes lined with kohl, long waves of copper-colored hair, and a cute upturned nose greet me. If I was nitpicky, I’d say that my eyes are a little too big, that my lips are too wide.

But I’m trying to get away from that kind of thinking. I tug my pale yellow skirt down and undo a button on my collar. There’s no one to impress inside Mac's, so it’s