Peter said. He wedged past a boisterous group of kids wearing Gonzaga shirts and sat on the red vinyl-covered stool next to Tina. “Gee, thanks,” she said. She was sure he was telling the truth, but she’d been avoiding looking in mirrors since her fight with Jan. The dark circles under her eyes and the frown lines curving around her mouth only reminded her of how different she felt now than she had when she’d first woken up in Jan’s bed. Then, she had been exhausted after making love all night but had been unable to stop smiling. Now, she felt and looked—as Peter had so politely phrased it—like hell. “This place makes a great burger, but it doesn’t offer much in the way of privacy,” Peter said, “You said you needed to talk. We could go somewhere quieter.” “This is fine,” Tina said, moving out of the way as one of the college boys gestured wildly and nearly hit her in the head. The dive, crammed on a corner lot, was tiny and only had room for an L-shaped Formica counter that wrapped around its questionable-looking grill.
