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“DON’T LOOK, BUT THERE’Sa guy at nine o’clock totally checking us out!” Tara waggles her perfectly threaded brows from her seat at Le Amoureux, a French bistro on Main Street.
Her eyes float around the room, mainly to the bar, where many Greenwood Village elite come after a day at the office. It’s near the train station and a great place for singles happy hour.
A handsome man near the bar looks our way. With a flirty smile, she brushes her sleek hair over her shoulder. She straightened it tonight, which is common when she is out for fine dining. Tara has different hairstyles for different settings. Tonight, she is dressed in a lace top, skinny jeans, and has the sleekest of hairstyles. It must have taken her forever to straighten the wild mane of curls she usually sports.
I clear my throat and raise my brows to get her attention. “Excuse me, miss, you’re here with me tonight. No man-hunting allowed.”
“To paraphrase Charlotte fromSex and the City, ‘I’ve been dating since I’m seventeen. It’s exhausting. Where is he?’” She makes a praying motion and lifts her eyes to the ceiling.
I laugh at her antics. “Okay, fine. But wait until I’m out of here, and then you can go suck face with whoever you want.”
“I don’t want a hookup. I want to catch that bouquet at Melissa’s wedding and then marry the man who puts the garter on my calf.”
“Tara, I adore you, but you’re a bit too dreamy for me.”
She ignores me as she stuffs her face with the truffle fries that came with her steak. “Let’s face it. Most of the men who come here are looking for a quick lay or to cheat on their significant other. I know this crowd, and they are not here, looking for a wife.”
I take a bite of my tuna tartar. “You definitely don’t need a player in your life.”
“Cheers to that, sister. I’ve already been left at the altar by the biggest dick of all. I’m only in for the real deal.”
It’s easy to forget Tara has a harrowing past. Probably because I didn’t know her then. Seven years ago, Tara was dressed in white and having her pictures taken when her groom called and said he wouldn’t be at the end of the aisle. Her ex-fiancé had had a change of heart while the guests were arriving for the ceremony. The story goes, she cried for a while, threw a few things, and then pulled up her bridal panties and announced the party must go on.
Yes, Tara was the bride left at the altar who went to her reception anyway.
“I hope it happens for you.” My words are honest.
Her cheeks pink with the compliment. “Meeting a man with older kids would be ideal. Hanging out with your and Melissa’s kids is fun enough. I like to play with them and then hand them back, all corrupted, like the really cool aunt I am.”
“You really have no desire to have children of your own?”
“It’s never been the goal. Traveling and enjoying good wine and having laughs with friends—that’s my life’s mission. Every month, when I get my period, I buy myself an extravagant gift or book myself a unique experience to remind myself what I’d give up if I got pregnant.”
I grimace in agreement. “Kids do suck your time and money from you.”
“Today, I took a five-hour nap.”
“I’m pretty sure that’s just called sleeping.”
“Exactly.” She cheers me, and we drink. “It’s exhausting, being me.”
“You need to tell me when babysitting is too much. Between your full-time job, your side hustle, and being fabulous, your dance card is quite full.”
“I like to keep my dance card jam-packed, thank you very much. Time on my hands is never good. Trust me, I’ll let you know when I’m over the babysitting. It’s not like you pay me anyway.”
“You never accept the money!”
She lifts her fork of escargot. “But I do accept the dinner.”
She winks, and I laugh as I bite into my tuna tartar. French food is my favorite, and I don’t get to dine at this restaurant too often. Ainsley hasn’t developed the palate for this cuisine yet. She’s currently into Japanese and Thai.
Tara sips her wine and twirls her glass from the stem. “Because I’m a nosy bitch, I need to know. What’s going on with you and the doctor you went out with? Do you ship him?”
“What the heck does that mean?”
“Izzy taught it to me. It comes from the wordrelationship. It means you want to be in a relationship with him.”
“No,” I state loud and clear.
