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She only calls when she's drunk and Renee knows it.
She should stop picking up; she knows this too.
But tonight the voice down the line is not sultry and goading, the words filthy and meaningless. Instead:
"I can't take it anymore, Dan," Allison is crying, "I want her so much it's killing me." A laugh, wet and awful. "But why would she ever want me? I'm a fucking mess. I'm pretty sure at this point she thinks the divorce knocked loose my last screw and I've finally lost it."
Renee opens her mouth to say... what? Her heart is racing. Only a strangled sound comes out.
"I know, I know," Allison barrels on. "It's late and you've got a real-adult bedtime, sorry. I just— How long has it been, Dan? How many years and men trying to make my life make sense without Renee? I'm so. Fucking. Tired."
Renee finds her voice. "Allison." Gentle, careful not to spook her. "You called me. Uh, Renee."
Silence. Then, "Oh, fuck!"
"It's okay."
"I'm so fucking sorry. Can we please, please pretend this never happened?"
"Hey. It really is okay. More than okay."
"It... is?"
Renee beams. "When can I see you?"