1924

You had fought with him—really fought—and you were furious. Whatever it was between you and Tommy, boyfriend, something more, something undefined… it didn’t matter. Jealousy had gotten the better of you. He had gone to a brothel with his brothers, and you hadn’t even given him the chance to explain. You became a storm, all sharp edges and pride.

That same night, you went out with Polly. Being who she was, she didn’t stop you—if anything, she encouraged it. The two of you drank far too much at the Garrison, laughing louder than you should have, drowning your anger in whiskey. God only knew how you managed to leave that place and make it back to Polly’s house in one piece.

By morning, word had already reached Tommy.

Polly opened the door, squinting against the harsh light.

“What do you want?” she muttered.

“Where is she?” Tommy snapped, his voice tight with restrained anger.

“Keep your voice down. She’s still asleep… as I was, before you decided to barge into my house,” Polly replied sharply.

Tommy didn’t wait for permission. He pushed past her and headed straight for the bedroom.

There you were—sprawled across the bed, still in last night’s clothes, completely knocked out, breathing heavily, a faint snore escaping you. Oblivious to everything.