Charlotte is really ready to check out, go home, and sulk, so she doesn’t actually know how or why she still ends up in a bar an hour later—in her dirty clothes, nonetheless. It’s probably Gabi’s art of persuasion, or her growling stomach and lack of food in the fridge at home. Most of Lou’s friends are there, and they order fries and snacks for the table.
If ignoring Riley was a sport, Charlotte would be an olympic medalist by now, even though she does a sublimejob of still watching her every move from her peripherals. The other woman’s behavior is more annoying than ever today.
It confirms Charlotte’s earlier fears however: that Riley had in fact expected something else, something more, and that she hadn’t handled the rejection well.
As she’s very deliberately not watching her talk to one of Lou’s other friends, laughing and swapping drinks, she wonders if that’s where she went wrong. Maybe she hasn’t been clear enough about being straight from the start. Maybe she’d taken their mutual provocations too far and unintentionally convinced Riley that there could be something more to it. She really hadn’t meant to lead her on, so she can vaguely understand why her poor communication would upset both Riley and Gabi.
As soon as she’s had enough food, she decides it’s better for her to just leave; they’ll pick this up another time. She grabs the last couple of fries from the basket, shoves them into her mouth and gets up to fetch her bag, but before she can announce her exit she feels a warm hand on her elbow. When her gaze drifts up to see who the hand belongs to, she’s surprised to see Lou.
“Hey, Charlotte?”
Charlotte covers her mouth with her hand and chews quickly. “Hmm?”
“I just want to say that… I’m sorry about how things are going between you and Riley. You know, I—I don’t want to meddle, really, but I do feel a little guilty for, you know, forcing you to work together. And I feel that wayabout both of you, not just Riley because she’s my friend. Maybe we made a mistake? I don’t know. I thought… I just wanted you to know.”
Charlotte tilts her head. She doesn’t know how much of the story Riley has told Lou, which means this conversation is happening on enemy territory until proven otherwise.
“Thank you, Lou,” she says suspiciously, micro-analyzing Lou’s words at lightning speed. When she doesn’t say anything else, Lou takes a deep breath.
“It’s just hate to see Riley upset. And I don’t know what happened exactly, because she won’t tell me, but I… Damn, I feel kinda powerless. I wish I could do something, for either of you. I don’t want it to be like this, Charlotte. I really don’t.”
So that means Riley hasn’t elaborated. Would she have done that to protect herself? Or to protect Charlotte? Assuming Lou isn’t lying, that is.
Charlotte gets so caught up in her own distrust, it takes her a while to notice Lou is fighting back tears.
“Oh, oh shit, Lou.” She drops her bag on her chair and wraps her fingers around Lou’s forearms. “Honey, no, please.” Realizing what’s really going on here—no scheming, no twisting the knife, just Lou being the victim of her behavior—she feels a pang of guilt.
“Listen. I have been a huge dingbat, but that’s not on you, okay?” God, how many more people is she going to affect by not being clear enough?
“Riley and I, we just have… incompatible personalities.” And sexual preferences, but let’s not go there right now.
Lou gives her a dry chuckle. “Incompatible personalities? That’s a very political way of saying neither of you will ever miss an opportunity to tear the other into pieces.”
“Oh, well,” Charlotte shrugs one shoulder. “Semantics. But really, this is an issue Riley and I will solve between ourselves. I’m sorry it affected your day, I really am.”
She can tell there’s a lot more Lou wants to say, but she decides to leave it there for now and nods. “Thanks,” she smiles. “Please try not to kill each other before the wedding. Afterwards, you can knock yourselves out.”
Charlotte exhales sharply through her nose. “Oh don’t you worry, we will,” she says, even though she isn’t too sure both of them will still have a pulse by the time they arrive in Mexico.
She gives Lou another friendly squeeze, and feels her phone buzz in her pocket. It’s a text from an unknown number.
'Charlotte, weird question, are you at Morrison’s right now?'
She frowns as she tries to make out who the sender is, but she doesn’t recognize the number.
'Who is this?'she texts back.
Within ten seconds, she receives a picture. It’s Charlotte herself, in her current outfit, looking down at her phone. It must’ve been taken moments ago.Confused, and a little frightened, she looks up in the direction of where the photographer must’ve been standing. She sees nobody she recognizes, until she hears a male voice: “Charlotte!”
“Oh my god, Martin?” she says incredulously, when she finally recognizes the tall, blonde man trying to get her attention. “Hey!”
Martin walks toward her and the two embrace each other. “How are you? It’s been, like what, ten years? Fifteen?!” he says, clearly excited to see her.
“What are you doing here? Are you back from Ontario?” Charlotte steps back to really take him in. He hasn’t changed much; he just looks like an older version of when she saw him for the last time, which must have been a pretty hot minute ago.
“Just for the week, yes. Wow, I can’t believe this! Come on, I’ll get you a drink,” he says, gesturing at the bar. “Or actually—we’ll do shots first, like old times. Tequila, yeah?”
He looks at her with a naughty spark in his eyes.
