My phone buzzes again and I see it’s from Ann. When I lift my gaze to hers, I see the concern. More beer. She wrote me.
I lift my glass again and pretend I’m not crazy. That I don’t feel like I just had a break-up.
An hour later, we collectively heave ourselves out the front door and into Claire’s car. I drank way too much. I knew it too, but each drink made the anxiety in my chest feel lighter and lighter. And I got to talk to Ann and tell her everything. At least I think I did. I’m not sure she heard it all though through all the noise.
There are six women packed in Claire’s little Nissan Altima, but we’re not going far. Mac's is right around the corner from here, and they’ve got a DJ spinning tonight.
There are three reasons really, why I’m going and that’s what I think about in the car ride there. Although I make sure to laugh when the other girls laugh, clinging to my bottle of water Ann grabbed for me.
I’m too drunk to drive.
I didn’t want to stay at the Local by myself
I want to prove it’s fine; I’m fine. It was silly and nothing happened anyway. Everything is fine, so I’m going.
We get to Mac's in one piece, thanks to Claire being the designated driver. It’s dark inside, with a couple of spotlights casting their glow on the bodies packing the dance floor. It’s not nearly as packed as the Local, but there are more people in here than usual.
“Whoa,” I say as I push through the crowd toward the bar. But then again, I come during the weekdays mostly.
Charlie’s working the far end of the bar, serving drinks to what looks like a whole sorority’s worth of girls. I follow Diane to the other end of the bar, where a younger guy is making drinks. Is that James, I wonder? I don’t remember and my brain is hazy.
I try to think what his name is with every step, but it escapes me. I realize that I must be tipsy, so I try to rein myself in while I stand at the bar, although my eyes keep darting to Charlie, waiting for him to see me. There’s not enough alcohol to make the bundle of nerves in my stomach knock it the heck off.
It takes a couple of minutes for me to get a drink. When I’m finally at the front of the line at the bar, I catch Charlie’s eye. He looks at me first, then at my work friends, and sort of shakes his head. He’s smiling, though. I bite down on my lip, feeling the smile stretch across my face as I rock on my heels.
But before I can even say hi, his attention is diverted back to the coeds, and he says something that makes them all titter. I’m certain one of them attempts to pull Charlie in for a kiss. He dodges the kiss at the last minute, but I’ve had my fill of watching.
It’s just fun.
All that internal pep talk leaves me in a quick second.
I turn away, grabbing my drink, cheeks heating and my throat feeling tight. If Charlie can flirt with every woman who looks his way, there’s nothing saying that I can’t have fun with whoever I want. As if that’s what I want to do right now. I dance my way over to Diane, trying not to let my hurt show. Well my attempt of a dance. It’s more like I sway my way over to her.
It’s not like you even have anything with Charlie, I remind myself.
I put my hands up in the air and dance, careful not to spill my drink. I’m sticking with beer tonight. Diane and the girls join in, and I try to just relax and have fun. I refuse to look over at Charlie, instead plastering my gaze on the back wall where the TVs display some music video.
It doesn’t take long for the group of girls on the dance floor to draw more men in and for Ann to decide her time is up. She rushes out, her husband waiting for her in the parking lot.
With her gone, and Charlie... preoccupied, my mind goes exactly where I don’t want it to.
It’s crowded, it’s loud and I feel like shit. In a room with all these people, I have to force the smile on my face and I just want to go home.
This was a mistake and the second I know that, I sneak out and get a cab home. Not looking back to say goodbye to the girls or to Charlie. I’ll make up some excuse tomorrow but I just have to get out of there. I don’t know what my first mistake was, but coming here tonight sure as hell was a mistake.
Charlie
My alarm clock goes off, but I’m already up. I slap my hand down and the incessant beeping stops. I couldn’t sleep for shit. The whole night, all I kept thinking was that I’m an asshole for trying to be with Grace without giving her a commitment. What’s even worse is feeling like she’s done with me.
She didn’t say a word and she left the moment she got there. She’s most certainly done with me.
I don’t want to be done with her.
Sinking back into the bed, I stare at the thin opening between the dark curtains and watch the stream of light pouring into the bedroom. My only sliver of hope is that she said she’d go to the wedding. I don’t know why I’m holding onto her as hard as I am. We haven’t even kissed. She’s not tied to me in the least.
The bed groans as I slowly slip off the edge and stretch my arms high above my head. I blow out a tired exhale as my bare feet pad across the wooden floors. They’re cold, and I’m pretty sure the furnace went out last night. Every hair on my arms stands on end as goosebumps travel up my back to the base of my neck.
Damn, I hadn’t even noticed. I grab my phone off the nightstand on my way out of the bedroom. I have to call her or text her. Something; I can’t let her think I’m just some prick.
That’s exactly how she looked at me last night. My heart thuds hard in my chest as I climb down the stairs, not bothering to grip onto the iron railing. I don’t go around kissing random women. Maybe I did once, but that was a long time ago.
This house is old, built in the '30s and in need of a little more TLC. I bought it just before I bought the bar from Mac. I round the stairs in the foyer and take in the progress I’ve made. The slate flooring at the entry is fucking freezing against my bare feet. The furnace definitely went out.
I was able to get more work done on the house before I started spending all of my time at the bar. The first floor is completely remodeled, with new practically everything and fresh paint. Gray tones and dark blues are the theme throughout the open floor plan, including the black granite and steel backsplash in the kitchen. I spent all the money I had to make this place into the modern bachelor pad I wanted it to be.
But now when I look at it, it’s just cold. Empty. Devoid of life. The lines are too straight, and the furniture practically looks brand new. 'Cause it’s barely been touched.
The door to the basement opens up with a creak and I switch on the light, a single bulb at the bottom of the rickety stairs. I never did get around to making the downstairs what I wanted it to be. A half-built bar is in the very back. Drywall's been put up and screwed into place, but I haven’t spackled it yet.
I don’t even want to finish it anymore; I think I just wanted to believe I was loving the bachelor life.
The truth hits me hard, like a bullet to the chest, but I keep moving, heading toward the furnace to mess with the electrical box. I know the right cords that need to be wiggled and tightened to get it to kick back on. I should get Joseph to come down here and fix this shit.
As I’m messing with the cords in the box, I think back to how pissed off I was when I bought this house.
It was the first one on my list. The realtor showed it to me, and I bought it right then and there. All the money that I had saved up for the wedding became a down payment instead.
The furnace clicks on with a loud swoosh and clink.
Shutting the thin metal door to the box, I stare at it as the fire burns high and the sound of air running through the house kicks in.
I didn’t give a damn about anything other than getting as far away as I could without being so far that I’d lose my family.
Now here I am, all these years later, in a cold house, alone.
And pushing away the cute little sweetheart who made me happy for the first time in God knows how long. Why? Because I couldn’t give her an
answer to “what are we doing?” that she’d accept.
I kick the basement door shut, feeling more and more pissed at myself, and head to the island to have a seat and call her, but before my ass even sits, the phone goes off in my hand.
And it’s her.
My breath stills for a moment, the only thought being that she’s telling me she’s not going to the wedding. I’ll figure it out one way or the other, but she’s coming. I’ll make it up to her… but she’s coming to that damn wedding, and I’m finally going to get a taste of my sweetheart.
I hit the button and answer the call.
“Hey there sweetheart,” I say easily as if I’m not tense and waiting for her to try to back out of this. As if I’m not trying to figure out exactly what I need to say. I’m not letting her go. I’ve fucked up so much in the last few years, but letting her walk away from me before I’ve had a chance to make a move on her isn’t going to be my next mistake. “Missed talking to you last night.”
“Charlie,” her soft voice pours through the phone, and the tone catches me off guard. It’s apologetic. I hear her breathe into the phone. “Look, before you say anything, I just want to say, I’m very sorry. I shouldn’t have told you off-”
Oh fuck no. I’m not taking this lying down.
“Sweetheart, you can stop right there.” I can practically hear her sharp intake and see her sucking at her teeth. I’ve seen her do it before, when she’s worried about something. The picture in my head of her doing it makes me smile and I relax against the island, the granite cool on my forearms. “You aren’t backing out of our deal. You still haven’t even told me what you want and I can tell you,” I hesitate, remembering what she texted and feeling like this is a turning point and more importantly, like I’m risking hurting her. I’d rather risk that, than risk letting her go. Call me a prick, but I can’t let her walk away again like she did last night. “I really like you too.”
It’s quiet on her end. Too quiet. I don’t even know if she’s still there. Doubling down, I tell her, “There I admitted it. Now you have me by the balls, Grace.”
Her small laugh fills the phone. I can imagine her blushing.
“Well… I’ll see you soon then?” she says, like it’s a question.
“You better,” I tell her.
“Alright then, bye Charlie.” I realize as she says the words that I don’t like her telling me bye.
“Bye, sweetheart.” I don’t like telling her bye either. The phone clicks dead and I drop the phone on the counter.
I shake my head. This is bad. It’s real bad. I already like her too much. I already want to keep her.
Staring at my kitchen, I try to remember the last time I used it. I can’t keep her because we have different life plans. The biggest problem though, is that I don’t actually have a plan. Not one that makes me happy.
I text Grace on a whim, Do you like funnel cakes?
Grace
I dress myself to go to the Piedmont Park Festival in a strappy linen-colored cotton sundress. It’s my favorite. I twist around in front of the mirror in my bedroom, my mind on the upcoming event and a smile on my face.
It’s an outdoor festival. I chew my lip as I try to decide on a jacket, since it’ll be cool outside this early in the morning. A smile curves my lips up as I pick a light denim jacket, pairing it with light brown leather ankle boots.
I look in the mirror, and my expression twists. A pale redhead peers back at me, her blue eyes anxious.
Do I really look like that?
I need emotional support today, someone to lean on. I pick up my phone and scroll through the contacts and find Ann.
She’s logical, whereas I’m… emotional. Although sometimes it’s vice versa.
Without much time to waste, I put it on speaker once I get to my car.
“Okay, spill it.” The first words out of her mouth make me laugh out loud.
“Spill what?” I rest my elbow on the car door and put my head in my hand as I drive down the interstate, listening to the GPS.
“You wouldn’t call if it wasn’t about Charlie.”
“You remember what I told you?”
“How could I forget?”
Deep breath in. “Well, he decided I’m not allowed to back out of our deal and that he wanted to take me on a date,” I practically squeal.
Ann’s reaction is everything I needed. From the: oh my God, oh my God. To asking what I’m wearing and if I put on cute underwear… just in case.
The only time my smile slips is when I remember I haven’t told Ann about the IVF and baby issues. In fact, Charlie’s the only one I’ve told that to.
Ann wishes me all the good luck in the world, telling me she loves me and that she has such good feelings about this before I hang up.
When I park I have to remind myself, I’m on a date with my fake boyfriend.
A man who isn’t right for me, and I know it. Heck, I doubt I’m right for him either.
A man who doesn’t want the same things I want. That much we both know.
It’s stupid of me. I’m wasting time.
But I can’t help thinking he’s a man who’d make a cute baby…
The chill in the air is more refreshing than cold when I get out to search for Charlie. Although I’m distracted, busy scrolling through an email on my phone. My doctor’s office emailed me information about IVF and how to find a donor. My eyes widen as I look through it all. There are a ton of big numbers -- ten thousand dollars, forty thousand unique donors.
It’s too much for me to try to take in right now, especially if I’m supposed to be on this date. Stashing my phone, I wait at the entrance to the park, next to the big white sign waiting for Charlie.
When I see Charlie, everything in me clenches, the good kind of way. From his simple white tee pulled tight across his broad shoulders, to his bulging biceps and worn jeans… he is my kind of man. I try not to stare at him as I hand him an iced coffee, but his deep green eyes are all over me.
“Thanks,” he says, eyes roving down my figure. “You look… nice.” Heat creeps up high in my cheeks, all the way to my temple.
“Yeah, well,” I can’t help but smile, blushing as I play off the compliment. I swear, when Charlie’s around, my cheeks are a permanent shade of tomato red, made even more apparent because of my fair complexion. “You don’t look so bad yourself.”
“You ready?” he says, nodding toward the park.
“I am,” I answer. I have to hold onto my coffee with both hands to keep from reaching out for his with one of mine.
Sipping my iced coffee, I ignore the feeling that something’s different between us as we stroll down one of the paths, under a banner declaring this the Piedmont Park Festival in bright blue scroll. Each side of the path is dotted with individual booths full of food and games or larger showcases of handmade trinkets and art to buy, which take up several tents measuring twelve by twelve feet each.
I sip my iced coffee, but I can’t help smiling as Charlie tells me a story about his younger sister Ali and how she had a fit one year over her funnel cake dropping.
“I mean… she was only, what did you say? Six? And I’d have a fit today if I dropped a full funnel cake.”
The conversation is easy. The laughs are genuine. It’s different. The small touches, the quick glances. It makes my naïve heart think there’s something here.
“Alright, your turn. What about your family?”
“Well, it’s just my mom now. My dad died in a car crash when I was little.” I talk easily, but stare at the grass as we climb up a bit of a hill. I wish I had a big loving family like his.
“I’m sorry.” I can feel his eyes on me, but I don’t look back.
“It’s been a long time. But thank you.” It’s quiet for too long. I want to tell him that I talk to my mom often but she’s busy and travels a lot. It’s all clogged at the back of my throat though, so I try washing it down with the rest of my coffee.
“What about your parent
s?” I question him, “What do they do. Your mom seems really sweet.”
His grin is asymmetric and that’s when our hands brush for just a moment. Ripping my gaze away so he doesn’t see my blush get even hotter, I wait for him to answer. “Dad’s a pilot. Ma’s a homemaker. And you’ve met one of my sisters.”
“That I have.” I can feel my eyebrows raise up, remembering Ali. “I still have to message her,” I admit to him. He only laughs and tells me he’ll give me her number. I move the cold coffee cup to my other hand, wiping the water off on my jacket before taking another sip.
“What’s Ali do?”
“She’s a nurse. Just graduated two years ago.”
I turn to look at him as we walk to the top of the hill and pause there, “And your other sister?”
“Cheryl’s a homemaker, like my ma. She has a fancy English degree, and she’ll probably go back to teaching at some point. She loves kids.”
“Kids,” I repeat the word, feeling a low tension roll over me.
“They have a baby now, so she’s adjusting to being at home and all that.”
The mention of a baby makes my heart flip. My lips part to ask him more about his sister, but my eyes catch sight of exactly what I want right now.
On cue, my stomach grumbles with hunger, “Want one?” I question
“The pickle on a stick or the waffle fries?” he questions, grinning from ear to ear.
Shrugging I answer, “Either or both.” Fried food and big pickles on a stick are exactly what I think of when I think festival. That and funnel cake of course.
“Well what are you getting?” He asks me and I answer, “The doughnuts. They are fried heaven with powdered sugar.” My stomach grumbles again as the smell gets stronger and the line we’re standing in gets shorter.
Charlie takes his time, eyeing the menu written out on the board to the right of the stand. “It’s kind of like funnel cake, but in ball form.” I whisper getting closer to him, as if it’s some big secret I’m confessing.
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