“What if I just like chocolate shakes?” she asks.
“Fair enough,” I shrug. “I’ll let you enjoy it in peace.”
“Thank you,” she says, staring forward.
I give it a beat.
“So you really come here often?” I ask, and Charlotte whips her attention over to me.
“Why does that surprise you so much?” she asks with an incredulous laugh.
“I don’t know. I guess I had pegged you for an Applebee’s happy hour kind of girl. The early one…for old people.”
“You would know.” She teases, and I have to admit I walked right into that one.
“Touche.”
“That shows just how little you actually know me,” she says, shoving a red straw into her chocolate shake the second AJ scoots it in front of her.
“I guess so,” I smile. And even though I literally came here to drink enough beer that I could forget about her for all of a few hours, I can’t say I’m not enjoying her company.
It’s quiet for a moment as I sip my beer and she slurps her milkshake. The second I open my mouth, she cuts me off.
“We don’t have to talk, you know. I’m still pretty mad at you.”
That catches me off guard, and I hear AJ snicker across the bar. I make a mental note to flip him off when he’s looking this way.
“Why are you mad at me?” I ask.
Charlotte gives me a deadpan look. “You’re kidding, right? Olive green?”
“What?” I ask. “She loved it.”
“It’s hideous,” she says, and I chuckle into my beer.
“You’re not wrong,” I say, and her mouth drops open.
“You knew it was ugly, and you chose it to spite me! I knew it! And meanwhile, your son is going to be wearing it on his wedding day. And you’ll have the photos forever, reminding you that you are a stubborn jerk who will do anything to have the last word.”
“It’s just a color,” I say. “It’s not that big a deal.”
“It’s a wedding! I know this may come as a surprise to you since you’ve obviously never been in love, but weddings are a big deal to some people. Most people.”
I look at her, a small but sober smile on my face. “Actually, I have been in love before,” I say.
“Oh, really?” she laughs. “With who?”
“Ben’s mother,” I say, and she stops.“But she died when the kids were younger.”
“I’m sorry,” she says after a quiet moment. “I shouldn’t have said that.”
“You couldn’t have known,” I say. “I guess you’re right, though,”
“About what?” she asks, looking at me with a much softer expression.
“We don’t know each other very well.”
“I suppose we don’t,” she says softly. I finish my beer, and she finishes her milkshake, and then I smile over at her.
