Corley didn’t pry further, his lips curling into a grin. “A glass of freshly opened Burgundy?”
He poured half a glass and passed it over.
Murray took it, sipping lightly. “Not bad.”
After a pause, he asked casually, “Didn’t you say Roseanne was here, too? I haven’t seen her around.”
“You didn’t come here just to see her, did you?” Corley swirled his wine glass, a teasing smile on his face.
“Huh,” Murray’s expression softened, “Just thought I'd stop by for a drink, and since I heard she was here, figured I'd ask. Is that a crime?”
Corley shrugged. “I ran into her in the hallway. She was here for a drink and probably went back home already.”
Murray didn’t reply, but his demeanor visibly relaxed. That was typical Roseanne, not one for these scenes.
He set down his glass and stood up. “Got work tomorrow. I’d better head out. Put this one on my tab.”
As he left, Corley’s gaze deepened slightly. After a moment, he sighed softly, “Sorry, buddy.”
…
Less than an hour in the private room, Leda was out like a light, having downed half a bottle of wine.
A bit drunk, Roseanne couldn’t drive and called a ride service to return to her apartment. Then, she took a cab from the building’s entrance back to her rental. It started pouring halfway. It was late, and the cab driver only agreed to drop her at the end of the lane.
Without an umbrella, Roseanne braced herself to run through the downpour.
“Roseanne!” A clear voice stopped her, and turning, she saw Owen approaching through the misty rain, umbrella in hand. “Were you planning on running through the rain?”
He dressed more casually, lacking his usual formality, which made him seem less stern.
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