His shoes were polished.
He looked as though he had stepped out of a campaign advertisement and into the wrong universe.
For several seconds neither moved.
Then Reuben smiled.
“Did you really think you could hide from me here?”
Samantha’s hands became numb.
The bar disappeared.
The jukebox disappeared.
She was in the old kitchen again.
Marble counters.
Wineglass near the sink.
Reuben standing between her and the door.
He took one step closer.
“You’ve made a spectacle.”
Samantha forced air into her lungs.
“Leave.”
Reuben smiled wider.
“That’s how you greet your husband?”
“You’re not my husband anymore.”
“You filed papers.”
“Yes.”
“That does not mean anything until a judge says it means something.”
“Leave.”
Reuben glanced around.
“This place.”
His lip curled.
“You chose this?”
Samantha said nothing.
“You walked out of our home to serve beer to criminals?”
He approached the bar.
“You know what reporters will do with this?”
“I don’t care.”
“You will.”