Shirley snaps her fingers. “A white knight.”
I sigh. “In a way.”
Shirley taps her fingers on the bar counter. “But you’re not interested in him, are you? You just came out of obligation.”
I look up at her. “You’re good at reading people.”
“Part of being a bartender. I’m like a psychiatrist without all the extra med school loans.”
“That’s funny. My best friend wants to go into psychiatry. I should give her your number.”
“Best in the biz, babe.” Shirley leans back in. “So is there another man? One who’s keeping your heart at bay?”
Is Shirley a freaking mind reader? Like, come on!
“Yes. A guy I hooked up with at my friend’s wedding, the future psychiatrist. At first he told me we had no future together…but then…”
“He wormed his way right into your heart.”
“Bingo. I actually just got back from a weekend in his family’s cabin with him.”
“That must have been fun.”
“It was. More than fun. It was…transcendent.”
“Okay, Little Miss Ten-Dollar Word.” Shirley grins. “But obviously he’s not entirely in the picture, otherwise you wouldn’t be here checking in on Mr. White Knight.”
“Right. We kind of left things…undecided. He lives on the Western Slope, so it would be a long-distance thing.”
Shirley rolls her eyes. “Ugh. A situationship. Been there. It can really fuck with you.”
“Yeah, but with Henry, it’s like a good pain, you know? Like, my heart is a little broken, but it’s also a reminder that I have a heart in the first place.”
“I’ll have to save that line for my next book.” Shirley crosses her arms.
“Just give me ten percent of your royalties.” I take another sip of my drink. I like Shirley. Maybe I’ll see if she wants to hang out sometime, watch a movie.
“So tell me about the guy you’re meeting tonight. The obligation.”
I shrug. “He’s nice. A little persistent. I kind of tried lightly ghosting him, but he kept coming back like a little puppy dog. He’s sweet enough. Really good-looking.”
“But not the one, huh?”
I shake my head slightly. “I don’t think so. But he’s earned a drink.”
“He a regular here?” Shirley asks. “I might know him.”
“He seemed familiar with the bar. His name is Lance. Lance Rodriguez?”
Shirley shifts her gaze. “Oh, honey.”
“What?”
“Lance… Well, he’s got a bit of a?—”
“Shirley!” Another patron calls. “This girl going to be monopolizing you all night, or can some of us get some service?”
“Be there in a second, Barry,” Shirley calls out. “Sheesh.” She turns to me. “To be continued.”
