CHAPTER FOURTEEN - CAROLINE

Stephanie sat down beside me with a drink already in her hand. I glanced at it and she shrugged, taking a sip and wiggling her eyebrows at me. We’d only been at the bar for five minutes and already, she’d managed to have a drink bought just for her. I rolled my eyes and grabbed the beer I paid for myself, taking a long drag and sighing deeply when I set it down.

There was something about being at a bar with Stephanie that was terrible for my ego. She was always able to woo the first man she saw, twirling her hair just right and mesmerizing him into blind submission. By the time we found a table, she was drinking for free, and the guy of the night was eyeing her hungrily from across the room.

Sure enough, when I glanced around, I saw some guy staring at her. He watched her closely, biting his lip and raking her body with his eyes. I coughed meaningfully and jerked my head toward him. Stephanie followed my gaze and then looked back at me with a grin.

“Is that him?” I asked.

“Yes,” she said with a nod.

“How do you do it?” I asked. “God, we’ve been here five seconds and you already had someone buy you a drink.”

“I’m just approachable,” Stephanie said with a shrug.

“And I’m not?” I asked, already knowing the answer.

“You give off a ‘don’t-fuck-with-me’ vibe,” Stephanie said.

“Whatever.” I rolled my eyes and took another drink. “I have a date later anyway.”

“Oh?” Stephanie asked. “You do?”

“Yup.” I nodded but didn’t elaborate. The date was a blind one, and I knew Stephanie wouldn’t approve.

Ever since I left Yale five years ago, my life had been all about pursuing my dreams. I didn’t make time for dating, not since Dean. As his face crossed my mind, I winced and shook my head. Tonight was not the night to reopen that old wound. Instead, I focused on Stephanie and smiled.

“I really think I’m going to move forward with the art gallery soon,” I said proudly.

“You are?” Stephanie asked, bouncing up and down with excitement. “But, how?”

“I have no idea,” I admitted. “But I have to try, don’t I?”

“Tell me the idea again,” Stephanie said.

“Okay.” I nodded and cleared my throat. “Basically, it’s an art gallery turned café. You know how bookstores always have coffee shops attached? Well, I want to do the same thing with art. The only difference is, I want to make it totally accessible to all kinds of art. Not just paintings and sculptures, but mosaics and live shows. I also want to have a stage where people can show their independently made movies and present their spoken word poetry.”

“That sounds amazing,” Stephanie said. “I would totally go somewhere like that.”

“I know!” I said with a grin. “When I left Yale to go to art school, I never thought I would end up here but now that I have, I can’t wait to get started. The only thing I need is money, which is not easy to come by.”

“Just ask your parents,” Stephanie said with a shrug. I glared at her, and she sighed. “I know you don’t get along with them but—”

“I actually discussed the idea with them yesterday,” I said.

“You did?” Stephanie raised her eyebrows in shock.

I nodded. “My mother said it’s a stupid pipe dream that I need to abandon. She told me my only hope in life is to marry rich and settle down. She thinks I threw away my entire future when I dropped out of Yale.”

“In a way, you did,” Stephanie said. “You threw away the future your parents had planned out for you. That isn’t a bad thing though, Caroline.”

“I know,” I said quickly. “I’ve never regretted it, not for a single second.”

“So, your parents are a no go,” Stephanie said. “How will you get the money, then?”

“I don’t know.” I admitted. “But, the truth is, I wouldn’t take it from my parents even if they offered it.”

“Why the hell not?” Stephanie asked.

“Because this isn’t about them,” I said. “This is my thing. For years, I didn’t know what I wanted to do with my life. I thought Yale was my dream but it wasn’t. The second I got there, I knew it wasn’t right. It took me two years to figure out I needed to leave. Once I did, I felt this surge of independence that I never want to lose. If I took their money for my art gallery, they would own it. They would own me. I can’t ever let that happen. Not again.”

“I don’t blame you,” Stephanie said. “They can be ruthless.”

“You have no idea,” I said softly.

My mind turned again to thoughts of Dean. Remembering that summer was always painful and part of the reason I didn’t date much. Not only was my life solely about work, but guys just didn’t seem worth the effort. After getting my heart broken, I wasn’t eager to go through that again. Not to mention, my parents had been utterly horrible when Dean went to prison. To this day, my mother couldn’t see me without mentioning what a “mistake” that “stable boy” had been. Every time she said it, I wanted to throttle her.

Still, it hurt to think about him. Dating was hard but I knew I had to put myself out there. When I dropped out of Yale, I got a job at an art gallery and put myself through art school. The only money I took from my parents was for my rent. They paid for me to live while I paid for my education. No matter how much they disapproved, I didn’t stop. I eventually got my degree and continued working at that same art gallery. Between school and work, there wasn’t much time for boys.

“What if I had live performances during every art show?” I asked, the idea suddenly striking.

“Like music?” Stephanie asked.

“Exactly,” I said. “I could pair the music artist with the artist of the night. The music would help sell the art and keep the patrons from getting bored. Not to mention, the café would bring in customers by itself. I really think I could make some money with this idea.”

“You can,” Stephanie said. “But, how are you going to start it up?”

“Investors,” I said simply. “I have a few connections from my time at the gallery. I’ve worked there for five years now. People know me. They trust me. It shouldn’t be too hard to find someone to invest. Right?”

“I think you should go for it,” Stephanie said. “Throw caution to the wind and all that shit. Plus, if you’re desperate, I could—”

“No.” I shook my head firmly. “Absolutely not. I won’t take your money.”

“Technically, it’s my father’s money,” Stephanie said.

“Still,” I said, still shaking my head. “I can’t.”

“If you insist,” Stephanie said with a sigh. “Hey, is that guy still staring?”

I glanced behind her to see if the guy from before was still there. He was. His eyes were still focused on Stephanie’s body. He looked like he was ready to pounce. I shivered with disgust and nodded.

She grinned and slid out of her chair, making her way across the bar toward the man. He smiled and wrapped his arm around her when she approached. With a grin on her face, they walked over to the bar and ordered drinks. This time, Stephanie lingered long enough to talk to him. She kept glancing in my direction, checking that I was okay.

While I watched her, I felt a pit of envy settle in my stomach. Sometimes, I wished it was that easy for me. I’d dated a few guys over the past seven years but no one serious. My relationships were barely that, lasting only a week or two at most. It was exhausting but I knew I had to try. No matter how much I hated the idea, I hated being alone just as much. My job was great and my dreams kept me motivated but I was lonely. I had been for a long time.

After a few minutes, Stephanie found her way back to me. She placed a fresh drink in front of me while she sipped on her own.

“Here you go,” she said.

“Thank you,” I said with a smile. “But, I have to get going soon. My date, remember?”

“You were serious about that?” Stephanie asked.

“Yup.” I nodded. “Not all of us can pick up any guy we want, you know?”

“Who is this guy?” she asked, ignoring my jab. “Someone from the gallery?”

“Um,” I said. “No. He’s just someone I know from—”

I hesitated just long enough for understanding to dawn on Stephanie’s face. Her eyes grew wide and then narrowed as she fixed me with a judgmental glare.

“Caroline!” she said. “Tell me, you are not going on another blind date?”

“Blind dates aren’t that bad!” I said defensively. “You just don’t like them because—"

“Because they don’t work!” she interrupted. “You can’t just manufacture love, Caroline. That’s why online dating doesn’t work and that’s why blind dates don’t work.”

“Countless people find love online,” I said.

“That’s bullshit,” Stephanie said. “Ugh, Caroline! Blind dates are for desperate, ugly people. You are not desperate or ugly.”

“You never used to be this judgy,” I said.

This was exactly why I didn’t tell Stephanie the truth about my date until now. She hated when I went on blind dates.

“Fine,” she said with a dramatic sigh. “Go. Go on your blind date.”

“Thank you,” I said with a smile.

I stood up from my chair and walked around the table to hug her goodbye. She squeezed me gently and smiled when I pulled away.

“Just promise I’ll be the maid of honor at your arranged marriage,” she teased.

“Ha. Ha.”

I rolled my eyes and walked away, passing Stephanie’s guy as he hurried toward her, excited that he could finally claim her full attention.