“Gross, but okay,” Millie retorted. They clinked glasses and turned them up.

Stella motioned the server back over. “Go ahead and get us another round of porn martinis.”

“Porn?” the server asked.

“I need it dirtier.” Stella laughed and Millie almost spit her drink out.

“Okay, you got it.” The server smirked at them, nodded and walked back to the bar.

Millie lifted her eyebrows at Stella. “Porn Martinis?”

“Well, it fits, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah, I guess it does.” Millie sipped the last bit of vodka in her glass. “So… Diane Sawyer is more gorgeous in person than on TV, huh?”

“Yeah, she is. She was as gentle as she could be… I guess.” She shrugged.

“She totally could’ve been harder on you, but again, you’re so tragic, people want to take it easy on you,” Millie mocked.

“I am so fucking tragic,” she agreed. “It’s hard to be this tragic, I’ll have you know, Ms. Rodriguez. Not everyone can maintain this tragic existence for as long as I have.” Stella really was kidding, even though what she said was true. Even if she were to allow herself time to think about the last year and a half, she would feel sorry for her circumstances.

“Yep, you’re a fucking sad sack of a person,” Millie said and then looked out the window.

Stella thanked the server as she set down their second round. “Keep ‘em coming, would you? I have a feeling we’ll be needing several more rounds.” Stella moved her hand to nudge Millie’s. “Just say whatever it is, Mil.”

Millie had been stewing since they got on the train and Stella was just waiting for her to explode. She shook Stella’s hand off and turned away from the window. “I just can’t figure something out,” she said, looking at the remains of her vodka, examining the glass like it would give her the answers she needed. She lifted her big brown eyes, full of doubt, to meet Stella’s. “Did you and Patrick fuck?”

It was Stella’s turn to spit her drink out and vodka sprayed all over Millie. Millie screamed and wiped her face with her napkin. Dumb and Dumber stood up instantly, ready to react, until they realized the girls were laughing.

“Fuck!” Millie looked down at her wet shirt.

“Sorry,” Stella apologized quickly. “Millie. NO! Why would you think that?” Stella had thought Millie would assume that, but hearing her say it out loud was ridiculous.

“Because, for the life of me, I can’t figure out what happened between you two and neither one of you will tell me,” Millie explained in an eerily calm voice. “Nobody tells me anything. I mean, you tell Patrick and George everything, then Patrick tells Billy everything. It’s like you guys think I’m a fucking moron or something, which I’m not, by the way. I’m way smarter than you—I was in the top third of our law school class. I’m not just some girl you keep around so you can have someone to buy shoes with, I’m your best fucking friend and you better start acting like it or maybe I should get a new best friend that doesn’t get shot or blown up or called a whore constantly on Twitter...”

Stella’s eyes widened at Millie’s outburst and she cleared her throat. “The reason why we haven’t told you is because we’ve been trying to protect you.” This was it. She had to tell her.

“Protect me?” Millie was incredulous. “My two best friends can’t stand to be in a room together, but when I finally get you guys to see each other, he almost drools just looking at you.”

“Oh, now you’re just being a jackass. No, he doesn’t. He’s been helping me, Millie.”

“Do what?” Millie slammed her glass down on the table.

“Fuck,” Stella muttered and turned to look for the server. Catching her eye, she waved and signaled two more. “We’re going to need another round before I can launch into this story.”

“It must be bad.” Millie analyzed Stella’s face for any indication of what was to come; Stella’s face gave nothing away.

“It is,” Stella agreed as the server sat the drinks in front of them. Stella clinked her glass with Millie and drank the entire martini like a shot. “Shit. Okay. You need to understand that, by telling you this, I’m putting you in danger and Patrick might fucking kill me.”

“Fuck Patrick.”

“Okay, wait. Let me start from the beginning. I’d been working for the General Counsel for the FBI for a couple of weeks when I was called into a conference with the ATF. There was some fuck up with an undercover operation and they wanted a little help from the FBI in the cleanup. As you know, they assigned me to go out to Montana to be a liaison for the DC office. Well, at that meeting, I was sitting with my supervising attorney when the ATF personnel came in with one of the undercover agents. It was Jamie.” Stella had been looking out the window at the New York sights. When she paused, she looked at Millie, surprised to see her face blank.

“Jamie who?”

“Jamie. My dead fiancé who turned out not to be dead.”

“Wait, what?!” Millie yelled. “Sorry, I’m just…”

Stella paused, curious. “Who did Patrick tell you who the guy was who George beat up at your house, Mil?”

Millie didn’t move, she just stared at Stella’s face. Then she shook her head. “He said that it was someone George used to know, that he’d seen the house on the news and pretended to know everyone, to work with Patrick. He said that he’d wanted to get pictures of your old house, get close to you. I didn’t ask any more questions; it scared the shit out of me…”

“Shit, sorry. That day is a fucking blur and Patrick said he’d take care of everything,” Stella apologized. “I thought that meant he’d tell you. Fuck.” She shook her head.

“So I let Jamie into our house?” Her voice was nothing but a squeak.

“Oh, Millie,” she grabbed for Millie’s hand, “it’s not your fault. Jamie is an undercover agent and lies for a living.”

Millie looked down at their hands and squeezed Stella’s.

“Anyway, that guy who ‘works with Patrick’? It was my Jamie, who’s now going by the name of Jack Ryder.”

Millie nodded, unblinking.

“So, that was Jamie,” Stella said more forcefully.

Millie’s eyes grew so large they usurped the other features of her face.

“Yes, it’s true. I can’t make this shit up.” Stella took a sip of Millie’s drink that was still sitting on the table in between them. “So my entire year of drowning myself in alcohol and depression was for fucking nothing. It was all bullshit so that he could go undercover with the ATF.”

“OH MY SHIT.” Millie’s eyes were still wide. She pulled her drink from Stella and downed the remaining martini.

“Right?” Stella motioned for another drink. “So, I know I’m all over the place, but after I saw him in the conference room, I freaked. I went home and ran with Cooper. George found me lying in the park with Cooper. He picked me up and carried me to his house. I told him about Jamie because I was so shocked. I kind of wish I wouldn’t have told him, but I’m glad I did, too.” She took a break and wished she had another drink already. “I don’t know...”

She shook her head and examined her recently manicured nails; they were so foreign to her, but Millie told her to get a manicure before the interview. “While I was at George’s, Patrick kept texting me, and basically told me he knew the whole time because he kept asking if I was okay and asking where I was.” She took a deep breath. “Mil, he watched me go through that entire year…shit, four years of fucking misery and he knew Jamie was alive. I don’t know if I can ever trust him again. He was my best friend and it was all a lie. Jamie threw me on him and he felt sorry for me.” Her voice was hoarse from trying to keep all of the emotion she’d hidden away from escaping through her words. It was still hard for her to even deal with the fact that Patrick lied to her for so long. She’d decided that not dealing with that part of her story would keep her the sanest.

Millie was silent. Her hands tore the beverage napkin.

Stella took another deep breath and continued. “So, I went to Montana after getting back together with George. I refused to even acknowledge Jamie. He came to my hotel and apologized to me through the door; said he wanted to talk. I told him to fuck off. Two days later the office blew up and I was shot.”

The server put a new martini down in front of Stella.

“I need another one too, please,” Millie said without looking at the server.

“Jamie shot me, Millie.” Stella blinked and felt the alcohol hit her senses. “He looked directly into my eyes and he shot me.”

A smothered cry escaped Millie’s lips and all of sudden her glass toppled over and vodka surged across the table toward Stella. Stella hurriedly put down napkins to block the alcohol.

“That’s alcohol abuse,” she tried to break the emotional conversation with a lame joke.

“I… I don’t know what to say, El. I-I’m so…” Millie sputtered.

“Don’t…” Stella was so tired of the pity that she saw in Millie’s eyes. “So anyway. I didn’t tell anyone about Jamie shooting me.” Stella looked at Millie and shook her head. “I know. It was stupid and I have no idea why I just didn’t tell the FBI the first time.”

“Holy shit, El.”

“Right?” She took a drink and looked outside again. “Then, when I went to Atlanta, he kidnapped me and took me to Key West and told me he loved me and he never meant for any of this to happen.”

“Wait. Slow down.” Millie tapped her nails on the table like she did when she was nervous in law school. “You’re seriously telling me you were shot and then kidnapped?”

Stella nodded.

“By your formerly dead fiancé?”