I took a sip of beer, silently agreeing. “And having mind-blowing sex,” I added.
“There’s the Beck I know and love. The sentimental one is gonna take a bit of getting used to.”
“Eh, no need. He’ll only make an appearance here and there.”
One of those appearances came not much later, after we ate. Hesitantly, I took the sheet of paper from my back pocket just as my phone buzzed. Glancing at it, I saw it was our group chat.
“Looks like Mason’s demanding I add three hundred bucks to the pot.”
“Ouch. That seems like a lot.”
“I’ll have to argue the technicalities of it later. But the guys are claiming I broke three rules.”
Mae looked like the cat who ate the canary. “Never date the neighbor? I still can’t believe you made a rule just for me. And never told me.”
“Would have been a dead giveaway if I had.” I read the text. “Number one, two and three.”
“Never fall in love, never date the neighbor, never stay the night. Seems like three hundred bucks to me. Which one are you refuting?”
“Technically speaking… we never really dated. We sort of went from friends to fiancés.”
She made a sound of disbelief. “Yeah, good luck with that one. This feels an awful lot like a date.”
“Does it though? We’ve been going to lunch for a long time.”
“After sex?”
The mere thought of it made it necessary to shift in my seat. I was going to have a near-permanent boner for a long, long time.
“No. But that feels irrelevant.”
“I think you’ll need to find a good attorney to argue that one.”
A perfect transition.
“Speaking of attorneys.” I unfolded the paper. “So, about that surprise.”
“Usually people seem excited about surprises. You get this way when it’s about something serious. Like you’re trying to talk yourself out of it.”
She knew me well.
“That’s what I want to say first. This is just an idea. Feel free to knock down any part of it. I was going to save this one for later?—”
Mae’s eyes lit with amusement. “But you have the patience of a guy holding fireworks and a lighter.”
“Exactly.”
Here went nothing.
“I bought your dad’s bar.”
She peered at me from above her wine.
“You did.”
“But it’s called ‘O’Malley’s.’”
“Yes,” she hedged. “It is.”
