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“No, not coming out here,” says Ashley. “I think that a drink is exactly what we need. I just… You’ve had a long day and I’ve been thinking about it this whole time.”
I take a sip of the whiskey on the rocks that’s just been delivered to me. My gaze drifts to her, trying to figure out exactly what she’s talking about. Ashley has a pensive expression on her face. She doesn’t look upset, just like she’s in very deep thought.
It would be so nice if I knew what it was over.
“Alright, then – was what a good idea?” I question, hoping that we can skip over any cryptic games, and she’ll just be upfront about it. That’s part of what I’ve always loved about this woman. She's upfront about everything and doesn’t mind saying what’s on her mind.
Ashley might have been raised by a politician, but she doesn’t play games like one. She doesn’t dance around dark corners. She turns to me then, tossing a lock of long blonde hair over her shoulder. She may be dressed up to impress my parents in case they spot us, but her face is still that of the girl I fell in love with, open and fresh and lovely.
Ashley says, “The fact that we’re not being honest.”
“You mean that we’re pretending to be engaged,” I say.
Ashley nods. “I know that it was my idea, but I was thinking about it and… I don’t know. Is it becoming too much, too complicated?”
“I don’t think so,” I tell her. “I don’t have any regrets about it, at least.”
“You wouldn’t though, would you?” It’s not Ashley that says it, but a voice behind me, instantly recognizable. I turn around on the bar stool and find myself face-to-face with Charlie.
He’s clearly been here drinking since the meeting ended an hour ago, and judging by the table in the corner that I’m fairly certain must be his, it’s all been beer on tap. Enough to get him tipsy but not enough to get him wasted.
Charlie’s cheeks are red, but even more than that, his expression is so sour it’s practically a slap to the face in its own rights.
“Charlie.” I gesture at the bar we’re sitting at. “I didn’t realize you were here. Do you want to just come and have a seat?”
“Come and have a seat,” he repeats, the pure vitriol in his voice striking. “Don’t act like I’m deaf, Grant! I heard you—and I didn’t even need to. I knew at the start that you two weren’t—you weren’t actually together!”
“You’re drunk,” I say. “Sit down, don’t make a scene.”
“I’m not drunk,” spits Charlie. “And don’t tell me not to make a scene. Fuck, that sounds like it came straight out of dad’s mouth! Don’t make a scene. Don’t make a scene!”
“Yes,” I say, gesturing to the bar stool beside us. “Don’t make a scene. Just sit down, and we can discuss this.”
“Discuss what, the fact that you’ve been lying to try and get dad off your back?” Charlie accuses. Except it’s not really an accusation, is it? Not when it’s the actual truth of the matter. It’s real. It’s a statement. Not even a question.
I glance over at Ashley, not sure how I should handle this. It doesn’t just affect me, after all. It affects the both of us.
But Ashley is looking up at Charlie with her wide doe eyes, like she doesn’t know what to say either.
It turns out that my glance towards her was a mistake. Charlie turns to look at her, and his mouth screws up like he’s just bitten into a lemon wedge or taken a shot of straight bitters. “And what about you?”
“Leave her out of this, Charlie,” I tell him, reaching up with a hand to grab his shoulder and bring his attention back to me. “You’re just still riding that fight with dad. You’re angry at him, not us.”
“I’m angry at all of you,” spits Charlie. “All you’re doing is—is proving him right!”
“I’m not doing anything like that,” I tell him. “Dad has his own mind, and you know that. Nothing that either of us says or does will ever change what he thinks.”
Charlie spits, “That’s not what this is about. This isn’t about changing the way that dad thinks. It’s about the fact that you’re encouraging it!”
“I’m not encouraging it. I’m finding my own way to deal with it,” I say, firmly. “Dad needs to know that one of us has settled down, and I need to make sure that I’m able to have my own life. I don’t want to keep fighting him for the next fifteen years.”
“So you’re going to lie to him, and throw me under the bus in the process,” spits Charlie.
I pull back, surprised by that. “I’m not throwing you under the bus! I never had a bad word to say about you. Not once. I think you’re fine, doing things just the way that you have been. And I know that it doesn’t have any effect on the way that you handle your business.”
Charlie ignores me, turning back to look at Ashley. “And what about you? Him, I’m not surprised by!”
He jabs a hand at me. I protest, “Charlie, just sit down and calm down. You don’t need to do this. We’re not working against you. We’re trying to work—with you.”
