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“I’m sorry.” Thank God, she takes her hand off my knee. “That’s gotta hurt. That’s too intense for morning coffee.”
I shrug. “That’s my life.”
“And it’s been so public. All those videos of you. You were drunk in them, weren’t you?”
“Every day, for nine years, I was drinking.”
“I can’t judge. I did crazy shit too. One time, I danced topless on a bar.”
That makes me laugh. “Sounds innocent compared to what I did.”
It feels good finding the humor with someone who gets it. How when an alcoholic drinks, it owns your actions. We’re serious about it in meetings. But if I can’t laugh about it, I’ll go crazy.
“Yeah.” Her smile is pretty. “You did some pretty fucked up shit, no offense. Like all those women? And those three going down on you with that Blow-Pop?”
“God, it’s awful.” It makes me wince and laugh at the same time. “It’s so damn embarrassing.”
“Embarrassing is the strip tease I did drunk in Walmart.”
“Embarrassing is getting caught getting a blow job at the Golden Globes.”
“Were there ever any men?”
I’m still laughing, “Maybe,” because she gets me. “I could’ve fucked the LA Rams and their cheerleaders and not remember a damn thing.”
We’re rolling. “Well, there’s a few Clemson football players I went on my knees for,” she admits, “so there you go.”
We shoot the shit for another hour, but this needs to go slow. I don’t know what this is, if anything.
“Sorry to cut this short.” I stand up and offer her my hand. It’s manners. “I got some work I gotta do.”
She holds my hand to stand like Cinderella from her carriage, and I know she’s falling for me. But she’s a single mom, and I gave up being an asshole for good, so I’m not taking advantage of her.
I walk her to her car. She twirls my way after she opens her door. “Dinner next time?”
I’m glad she asked because I never would, and I need to try. This is the only way to move on from Cade.
“Sure. This Saturday?”
“Sounds good.” She’s leaning way too close to me.
It makes me flinch back and glance into her backseat. “Hey, where’s your car seat?”
“Huh?” Her eyes dart that way, and then she laughs. “Oh.” And pauses. “It’s gross. My son had an accident, so I had to hose it down. It’s drying in my garage.”
“That’s not gross; that’s a parent’s life.” It’s weird. She’s never told me. “What’s your son’s name?”
She stammers, “Chandler.”
“Chandler?” I laugh. “Like from Friends?”
“Don’t make fun of me.” She slaps my chest. “I’m a huge fan.”
“Obviously.” I grin as my phone buzzes in my back pocket and with all the shit that’s going on. “Excuse me. I gotta check this.”
BEAUFORT COUNTY SHERIFF
It lights up my screen, and oh shit. “I need to answer this. See ya Saturday.” It’s polite. I peck her cheek and turn away, answering, “Hello?”
