Reba and Barbra Jean sat next to one another at a tall, circular table. Jell-O shots and fruity drinks sat in the center of the table while they chose which they preferred. Barbra Jean decided to take her out of the house, perhaps get her mind off Kevin. The bruise on her cheek had softened considerably, and she could mostly cover it with makeup. Putting it out of sight put it out of mind as well, and that was what she needed. Though, alcohol helped too.

"Look at that guy." Barbra Jean lazily pointed towards a man who was on the dance floor, drinking a beer. "I think I'm in love." Reba laughed, pushing her friend's shoulder.

"Maybe you should ask his name first." She took another Jell-O shot, chasing it with a sip of her margarita. "Ooh, or that one." She pointed to another man, who in turn smiled at her. She returned the gesture, but didn't allow it to go further. She didn't want to meet anyone new for a long while, especially since she had just given more of her heart to a relationship than she meant to.

"He's more your type. You know, arrogant."

"Arrogant? Do I go for arrogant men?"

"Of course you do. Look at your track record." She laughed, feeling the effects of the alcohol running through her veins.

"I like someone who doesn't need my help twenty-four seven."

"Yeah? And how's that working out for you, Red?"

"Not well." She finished her margarita and waved their waiter over for another.

"Reba, that's your fourth."

"Are you my husband? Counting my drinks?" She laughed, thanking the waiter and sipping her new drink. She was glad Barbra Jean had offered to take her out. It felt good to get out of the house and away from the office. Life had become too harsh in her mind, taking a toll on her. She had been more negative the past week, rude and inconsiderate. It wasn't her at all; she had just been so physically and emotionally hurt by what Kevin had done. And worse than that she thought she would be indelibly angry.

"I'm not 'counting your drinks,' but you've also had three Jell-O shots. You don't have to drink so much, is all I'm saying."

"Yes I do. I want to get drunk."

"Why?" She shrugged, her fingers playing with a napkin on the table.

"I don't know. I want to have fun for a change. I've turned into such a prude-y...grandma." She laughed at her remark, knowing how foolish it must have sounded to her friend. "Man, I wish you would have known me when I was younger. We would have had so much fun, let me tell you."

"Reba, we have fun now. Just because you're older than me doesn't mean you're old."

"Yes it does. I'm boring. And I'm running out of options in life. My job is something I never really wanted to do, my kids are all grown up and making their own lives, and I'm alone." She sighed, realizing all the things she had just said. "Wow, maybe I'm not such a pleasant drunk anymore either."

"You aren't alone. Your kids are supposed to grow and make lives for themselves, that's the whole point, but I will always be here. Brock will always be here for you too, no matter how you feel about that. Plus, I can be your boyfriend if you're really that lonely. I'm not opposed to dabbling in the opposite sex." She laughed at Barbra Jean's quirky way of making her feel better, smiling to her friend.

"Thanks, I appreciate you. Now, let's order some more shots."

xxxxxxxxxx

Brock watched from the couch as Reba stumbled through the front door, carrying her heels and her purse in her hand. She giggled at how dizzy she was, closing the door and tossing her belongings next to the stairs. He smiled, finding it amusing that she was so terribly drunk. He hadn't seen her like that since they were in their twenties.

"Reba, you okay?" She laughed as her back slid down the door, and she sat upon the ground. He stood, walking towards her to make sure she wasn't going to pass out right there.

"I am so shit faced right now." She continued to laugh, but covered her mouth when she realized what she'd said. "Is Jake here?" He rolled his eyes.

"No, he's at a friends' house. He didn't hear you."

"Oh, good." He smiled at how juvenile she was, reaching his hand out for her to take. She followed his request and took his hand, allowing him to help her stand. She stumbled, wrapping her arms around his neck as he caught her.

"I'm going to help you up the stairs, okay?"

"No. Let's play cards. I think I can win this time." He laughed, walking her towards the stairs as they spoke. There was no way he was going to carry her upstairs while she was unconscious so he knew to get her up there as soon as he could.

"You can't even walk by yourself. We'll play cards tomorrow." She nodded and they began walking up the stairs, slowly since she wasn't quite balanced at the moment. He finally got her down the hallway, opening the door to her bedroom and leading her to the bed. He grabbed a pair of her pajama pants and a tank top from her dresser, sitting it next to her swaying form on the bed. "I'll be in my room if you need me."

"Help me?"

"I don't think that's a good idea." She pouted her lip, waiting for him to give in. "Reba, don't give me that look. You're drunk, and you'll be pissed tomorrow if I help you." She rolled her eyes before trying to stand again. He rushed forward and helped her to her feet, letting her go when he found her to be balanced.

He turned around and waited for her as she removed her shirt. He decided she would most likely need help getting into bed and situated for the night. However, he would not help her change. There were things he just would not do to torture himself any more than he did every day. He couldn't look at her like that if he couldn't have her.

"Brock?" She began to whine a bit from behind him. He braced himself and turned around, finding her sitting on the ground. He looked away for a moment, glad she had gotten her pajama pants on, but embarrassed that she was only wearing a bra instead of the shirt he laid out for her.

"Honey, put your shirt on, and I'll help you get into bed."

"Help me up." He reached out his hand, helping her to her feet for the second time that evening. She fell against him, and his heart pumped faster at the feeling of her nearly bare chest hitting his. He hurried to grab her shirt from the bed and pulled it over her head, finally pleased to have her dressed. "Brock, I'm glad you're here."

"I know." He rolled his eyes, walking her towards her side of the bed. What he first saw as cute was really beginning to get on his nerves. She was too old to be going out like that, he thought, and secretly decided to yell at his other ex-wife next time he saw her. He laid her down, pulling the covers over her body before walking towards the door. He didn't get far, however, because she had a strong hold on his shirt.

"Will you talk to me until I go to sleep?" He sighed, walking to lie on the opposite side of the bed. She immediately rolled close to him and wrapped her arm around his waist.

"What do you want me to talk about?" She moved closer to his face, meeting his eyes. He chuckled, noticing how wide her pupils were in the dark of the room. "Go to sleep, Reba."

"Not yet." She leaned down and placed her lips upon his, kissing him softly. He was shocked, but it felt so good. Her tongue traced his bottom lip as he ran a hand through her hair. He pulled away, though, not allowing either of them to feel too much from the brief encounter. He didn't want her to get anymore bright ideas when she needed to sleep. "That's it?"

"Goodnight, honey." She smiled, laying her head against his chest and holding him close. Her eyes closed, and she began to drift into sleep, feeling her breath become steadier.

"Love you." His eyes widened, darting about the room. He knew she didn't mean to say it, it was just the alcohol speaking. It had to be. Yet, as his eyes fell heavy and the smell of her hair invaded his senses, he discovered how much he missed the words falling from her lips.

"I love you too, Reba."