"How long are you going to wallow?" Robb asked from behind.

Oliver stilled for a second, then drank his whisky. The last person he thought would find him at the Lockwood bar was his old man. One of his friends had snitched, and his bet was on Vivian; the bastard always cracked at the littlest pressure.

There was no judgment in Robb's tone, which was good because Oliver had enough for the day and would throw words and hands if it came to that.

After he left the company earlier, he knew coming to the Lockwood bar would not be the best idea. Cecil had her doctor's appointment at ten...