“Yeah ... it’s been weird. I actually saw Ben a few weeks ago.”
He looked at me sideways. “Ben, Ben? I thought he still lived in DC?”
“He was in the city.”
“Wow. How was it?”
I took a deep breath. Maybe telling someone would defuse the emotional bomb that kept going off in my head. “It could have been fine, but I fucked it up. We went to dinner and got super drunk.” I tried reading his reaction, but his face was entirely neutral, as if I was telling him about a memo I’d written. “And we slept together.”
He went from poker face to startled and I immediately wished I could backtrack.
“Believe me, I regret everything about it. It wasn’t the right move at all. I know that.”
Something about Charlie’s face told me he wasn’t going to try to make me feel better about it.
I took another sip to stall. “Sorry, let’s change the subject ... I feel like a schmuck for having done it, and I don’t need anyone else to tell me that.”
Charlie stared at the cards. “Your move, counselor.”
I refilled my wine glass and checked if he needed a top off.
“Do you still have feelings for him?” he asked.
“Despite the very bad choice I made to sleep with him, no.”
“Have you dated anyone since you guys got divorced?”
“Not seriously.”
“Casually?”
I smiled ruefully. “I have no clue what I’d do on an actual date. I was either dating Ben or married to him for most of my twenties. When we got divorced, the only way I could bring myself to interact with men nonplatonically was by drinking. A lot.”
I hoped Charlie could read between the lines that it had just felt too strange, or too vulnerable, to be intimate with someone after I had been someone’s wife.
“So what you’re saying is, you’ve only gone on drunk dates?”
I felt my face flush. “I wouldn’t even call most of them dates. Just hooking up with guys I kind of knew from school and felt comfortable with.”
I paused. “I actually haven’t had sober sex since I was married to Ben.”
Charlie looked stunned again, then quickly recovered. “Well DeFiore, I’d offer to help you out with that tonight, but ...” He nodded toward the collection of empty wine bottles on the table.
“That’s generous,” I said lightly, feeling my face get warm.
“Your move again.” Charlie rubbed his jaw. “I’m sure he still thinks about you in that way. Ben, I mean. You’re the one that got away. Not a lot of beautiful and funny girls out there, in my experience.”
I blushed again and mumbled, “Oh.”
He looked embarrassed. “Should we call it? I’m feeling a rough morning if we keep this up. Gotta be ready for ice-skating tomorrow,” he said.
I groaned. “Ice-skating hungover isn’t how I want to spend my surprise thirtieth birthday, so I accept your resignation. Besides, I could fall asleep sitting up right now. I hope they figured out the heat upstairs, because it’s freezing down here.”
I went to stand up and gravity pulled me back down.
“We should let this last log burn out before we call it a night. Safety first.” He sat back against the couch.
I wasn’t ready to try standing up again, so I nodded and wrapped my arms around myself.
