“I’m being respectful,” I reply. “I don’t want to offend the cherries.”
“They’ve been through worse,” she says. “Trust me.”
I take a sip. The wine is tart, bright. Sharp in a way that makes my mouth wake up.
“Well?” she asks.
“I don’t hate it,” I admit while watching the crimson liquid swish around the glass. What I don’t tell her is that it’s actually good. Like, I’m wondering if we’ll get an opportunity to buy bottles at the end.
Her eyes light up like I’ve told her a secret. “Wow. Mark the calendar.”
The second wine is darker, smoother. Balaton cherries this time—sweeter, richer, less bite.
Sadie nods after tasting it. “These are my favorite. They’re kind of overlooked, but they’re smooth with enough of a bite.”
I glance at her. “You just described yourself.”
She snorts. “Better be careful, Coach Colson.” She gives me a side-eye glance as she brings the wine glass to her lips.
“I meant it as a compliment.”
She studies me for a second, like she’s deciding whether to believe me, then lets it go with a small smile.
Birdie drops the fries at our table, including a container of a dipping sauce. She must notice I’m trying to figure it out when she jumps in, “Cherry honey mustard. A staple here.”
Sadie has her hands in the hot fries and is dipping them into the sauce before Birdie is even leaving the table.
“Oh my god. This is my favorite,” her eyes roll back as she revels in the fries.
Hesitantly, I follow her lead. I take a fry, dip it in the cherry honey mustard, and take a bite. I’m kind of expecting to not like it but it’s theexact opposite. The cherry isn’t too sweet and seems to be a solid pair for the honey and then brightness of the mustard. It’s fucking good.
“Your face is giving you away,” Sadie teases, raising her brows. “You love it, don’t you?” she questions me as she takes another fry.
Shrugging my shoulders, I agree by taking another fry, heavy on the dip.
“It’s good. I’m surprised.” I lift my hands in a fake surrender, like she caught me.
She smiles slowly. “You do that a lot,” she says. “Pretend you’re undecided when you’re already in.”
Her words have me pausing for only a second. I reach for the wine, taking a small sip.
Because she might be right.
CherryPithumsaroundus—glasses clinking, someone laughing too loud at a nearby table, the smell of cherry in the air. We’ve got a basket of fries between us we’re pretending is communal, even though Sadie’s definitely winning.
She’s suggested we trade questions and it seems fair enough—or maybe that’s the wine convincing me.
“Okay,” I say, leaning back in my chair, trying to keep this low-stakes. “Easy one. One place you’d love to vacation.”
She doesn’t even hesitate. “Italy.”
I smile. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” she replies, popping a fry into her mouth. “The fact that carbs are considered a lifestyle choice and not a weakness? Done.”
“That’s a compelling argument.”
She grins. “I would simply eat my way through the country and call it cultural immersion.”
