David sat at the bar nursing a whiskey. God, his life was a disaster. It had been a few days since he’d ended the thing that hadn’t even really started with Mary Margaret, and he couldn’t stop thinking about her. He’d done the right thing, sticking it out with Kathryn. He’d loved her, at some point. He remembered loving her. He remembered thinking she was beautiful and sexy and... and he didn’t anymore. Not to say that she wasn’t beautiful. Of course she was. But now, he thought she was beautiful in the way he thought a sunset or a nice painting was beautiful. There was no spark, no love, no chemistry. But he’d married her. He made a choice and a commitment long ago, and he had to honour that.
Despite what he felt for Mary Margaret.
Mary Margaret was light and joy and warmth. And no matter what he did, no matter what he tried to force himself to feel or think or do, he couldn’t stop thinking about her. He’d dreamed about her every night since that night at the Toll Bridge. He wanted her more than he’d ever wanted anything in his life. But he’d made his choice and he had to stick to that.
Thus, whiskey.
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