Gabe rolls his eyes. “Typical manchild.”
“Exactly.” I wave a chunk of bread at him to emphasize the point. “In retrospect, I don’t know why I stayed with him for as long as I did. At the time, I thought our life was perfect. Now I can see all the red flags.”
“Mmm, hindsight is 20/20,” Maggie muses, slathering butter on her potato.
“As for Mom, you know how she is. She believes every bonkers post that shows up on social media—weird shit like drinking laundry detergent to cure cancer—and has formed a questionable relationship with an AI ‘person.’” I put air quotes around the word and both Maggie and Gabe cringe. “She relies on this friend way more than she should. Next thing you know, they’ll be engaged. She’s been like this ever since the divorce, but it’s getting worse.”
“That sounds…not great,” Mags says. “Like borderline psychosis. Does she need an intervention?”
“Oh, definitely,” I say, drinking more wine. “Not that it would help. Anyway, enough about all that. Braeden is in the rearview and I deal with Mom one day at a time. What do you two have going on? How’s the new business venture?”
Maggie grins and Gabe shoots her a stupid-in-love glance. “Great!” she says, bouncing in her seat. “We just did this big workshop for the community and it was a huge success. Businessat the hardware store is way up and I think we’ll be able to launch our new ventures really soon. We’ll actually be able to go to people’s houses and show them how to fix up stuff!”
“That’s amazing! I’m so proud of you.”
“Thanks. We’re proud too.”
I really am happy for Maggie. We’re close in age, and while I was settling for a bland relationship and losing my job, she was buying a house, falling in love, and starting new businesses. I can only hope that I’ll find the same kind of success here that she has.
We eat in silence for a few moments before Maggie speaks again.
“Oh, Jules. I’ve been meaning to ask if you have plans for Saturday night.”
I snort. “Are you kidding? I’ve lived here for four whole days. Of course not.”
“Good. Vienne does pub trivia on the third Saturday of every month. You’re coming with me. I’ll introduce you to some friends, we can have drinks, and you can flex that big brain of yours.”
I grin. Trivia is one of my favorite things, along with jigsaw and crossword puzzles. “Count me in.”
JULIET
Maggie takes me to the same parking lot as the café where I had lunch on my first day in town, but instead of heading to Cool Beans, we swerve to the pub that shares the property: Hip Hops. My brain does its thing with the names: Cool and Hip are basically synonyms, plus beans for the coffee and Hops for the beer. Cute. I chuckle at the wordplay, then tune back into Maggieas she explains that a couple owns both businesses: Gillian runs the coffee shop, and her wife, a succubus named Vienne, manages the bar.
“Pub trivia night is always a blast,” Mags explains. “Besties and brews—what more do you need?”
I chuckle. She knows that the trivia is the draw for me. But hey, if I get the chance to make some new friends in the process, all the better. I’m not really the solitary sort. I enjoy how interesting people are far too much to be a loner.
We go inside and grab a booth. It doesn’t take long for two more ladies to join us. “Juliet, this is my friend Liana,” Maggie says, introducing me to a pretty, curvy Asian woman in a floral dress. “She has a baby dragon.” Maggie says it casually, like it’s perfectly normal to have a fire-breathing pet. Then again, maybe in this town, it is. “And this is Glee, a fellow content creator,” Mags continues. “We met at the thrift store.” Glee has pink-and-purple hair, giant brown eyes, a septum ring, and tattoo sleeves climbing her arms. She looks a little like an extra-funky Megan Fox.
“Nice to meet you both,” I say.
“We should get drinks,” Glee says.
“And snacks!” Liana chimes in, sliding into the booth and grabbing a menu.
I’m about to join her when I spy a familiar curly bob sitting alone at the bar. “I’ll be right back,” I say, and make my way over. Sure enough, it’s Ellie, a woman I’m starting to know from my shifts at work. She comes in every day. She’s pretty in a Kewpie-doll sort of way, with a rosebud mouth, upturned nose, and big blue eyes framed by heavy fringe.
“Ellie? I thought that was you.”
She looks up from her drink and blinks at me. “Do I know you?”
“Juliet,” I say. “From the bookstore. I’ve seen you in there several times.”
A small smile blooms on her face. “Oh, hey.” She pats the barstool next to her. “Want to join me? I always come in for trivia night.”
“Are you by yourself?”
She nods. “Yeah, I usually come alone.” She seems a little sad, and I wonder if she lacks friends.
