The bar was dark, and the air felt thick as I shook the last of my Jack and Coke and tipped it to my lips.
Somewhere over the last five hours, Charlotte’s skin had taken on a sheen that I couldn’t stop analyzing. Was there glitter in her moisturizer that came out the longer the day went on, or did she have a natural glow? Did it taste salty like sweat, or would it be as sweet as her smell? I’d become accustomed to the fragrant lavender, sitting in the aura of it as it permeated off of her, and now that it was time to go, I wondered if I’d notice the difference as soon as it was gone.
“I guess we have to go, huh?” Charlotte mused, jerking her head toward the bartender who looked like he wanted to wait for us assholes to get the fuck out about as much as I wanted an ice pick to the brain.
I knew from experience, ice picks to the brain weren’t good.
Brain surgeon, remember?
“Looks like it. Looks like he might find a gypsy to curse us if we don’t leave soon.”
Charlotte rolled her eyes. “It’s only eleven p.m. If he’s upset about closing this late, he probably shouldn’t be in bartending.”
“It is a Wednesday. Maybe he’s got more patience on the weekends,” I excused.
“Maybe.” She shrugged and smirked as she put the rim of her wine glass to her peach-colored lips.
I couldn’t even tell you when we’d switched from beer. Frankly, we’d been so busy talking, I didn’t even know how many drinks I’d had. Good thing I wasn’t driving.
“Maybe he needs to be slapped by a dick.”
A startled bark of laughter left my lips, and I reached for her glass. “Okay, maybe you’ve had enough of these.”
“I just miss the pretty blonde,” she muttered dejectedly, and I laughed again. I didn’t know who she was talking about, but the pretty blonde I knew was still sitting in front of me making adorably tipsy threats of genital violence.
“What pretty blonde?”
“The one behind the bar. She gave me our first beers and no attitude.” She snapped her fingers and struck an imaginary line in the air. “That’s what I like in a bartender. Fast alcohol and limited lip.”
“You know he can probably hear you, right?” I tried not to smile, but I couldn’t drum up even an ounce of austerity.
“Pshh, duh,” she agreed. “What’s the point in insulting someone if they can’t hear you?”
I’d never thought of it that way, but the more I considered it, the more I reckoned she had a point. “Okay, fair enough. But we should probably go. I’m sure you have work in the morning, and I know I do.”
“You’re so responsible,” she teased. My chest tightened with the insult, but she turned it around pretty quickly. “That’s good though. I should probably be more like you.”
“I haven’t always been,” I offered. “I messed up a fuck of a lot when I was younger.”
Why the hell am I telling her this?
“Yeah?” She leaned close and put her hand to my arm. “Really?”
“Really.” A cold chill ran down my spine at how much I hated some of what I’d done. “Jesus, you’d probably lose all respect for me if you knew.”
She shook her head nearly immediately, her long blond hair swinging at the ends and tickling at the skin just above each breast. “No way. I’m sure I messed up worse.”
“Definitely not,” I challenged. I’d left Winnie alone to raise our daughter despite knowing how much it’d affect her. I’d known. I’d watched her cry and listened as she’d told me what she needed, and still, I hadn’t given it to her.
I couldn’t find a way not to hate myself for that.
But at the same time, I’d thought I was doing what was best. I was making something of myself, giving them financial support. I’d never have been able to even imagine what would have happened if I’d stayed here and given up the job opportunity in California.
The problem was with how late I was to realize that money wasn’t everything—seven very important years.
Determination lined the entirety of Charlotte’s body as she closed her eyes briefly, blew out a breath, and opened them again. “I left my fiancé the night before our wedding.”
Her one imperfect tooth carved a worried pit into the flesh of her lip as she waited for me to respond. She expected rejection, but I felt no condemnation. Instead, I felt shame in the fact that I really was, as I suspected all along, the biggest asshole.
My stomach churned as I considered what to say. Whether I should tell her what I’d done—perhaps driving her away for good—or if letting her flounder out there all alone was something I could live with.
Nervousness hummed through the surface of my skin as the words crawled up my throat and prepared for admission.
But when they hit the tip of my tongue, the rolling note of the first letter already a signal in my brain, fear and “rational” cowardice changed my mind. I didn’t really know this woman.
Was I inexplicably drawn to her? Yes. I was.
But she was a headhunter and I was a doctor, and that was about all that I knew for sure. I couldn’t share something so vulnerable about my past—about my daughter’s past—without knowing her better.
“I…well, that’s not so bad,” I comforted lamely.
She took it well, thank God. Laughing loud and wild like a hyena before shoving my shoulder playfully. “Oh yeah. It makes me a real peach.”
“I’m assuming you were young. People make mistakes when they’re young.”
She pushed the glass forward before taking the stem between her fingers and twisting it back and forth thoughtfully. The following shake of her head was self-deprecating. “Yeah. And leaving wasn’t wrong. We weren’t right for each other. But the way I did it was.” She shrugged helplessly. “Enough about my failures, though. The only ones that matter now are your absolutely terrible attempt at trivia and refusal to take a perfectly good job.”
“I told you, I have a daughter here.”
She rolled her eyes. “Right, right. So noble.”
I nearly fucking scoffed. Fuck, if she only knew. You could have told her, my subconscious poked. But I hadn’t. I guess I’m still a real asshole.
“Come on,” I said. “Let me get you a cab.”
Her eyes narrowed, and the tip of her tongue peeked out just enough to wet the seam of her lips. “Okay. But at least give me your direct number. Trivia partners don’t have to go through the main line at the hospital, right?”
I smiled and pulled my phone from my pocket. As she spotted it, she dug hers out from her briefcase.
We exchanged quickly and typed our numbers in each other’s phones as the bartender started turning out lights behind us. Literally. It was like an approaching total solar eclipse as the darkness made a run toward us.
Charlotte scoffed. “Totally needs to get slapped by a dick.”
I couldn’t say I disagreed.
But then again, so did I.