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Mack’s mouth twisted. “I’m continuously shocked at how open you are. I’ve just never met anyone like you.”
“These are just facts, you know?”
Mack tore off a small chunk of bread from the basket. “Do you talk to all your friends about this kind of stuff?”
“You mean Ben?”
“No, your other friends.”
Charlie reached into the breadbasket but played with the food. “I only have surface-level friends.”
“What’s a surface-level friend?”
“Like friends who’d say it was cute I wanted to name my dog Booger.”
“You have a dog named Booger?”
Charlie giggled and bit into the bread. “No. I’m saying I’m not close enough with my other friends where they’d tell me that’s a terrible name. These same people sent a sad-face emoji text when Jess and I got divorced, or just text to dig for gossip. So… surface level.” Her voice dropped. “Now ask me how I felt about being raised by a single father who forgot to come home on the weekends, and we’ve got a different story.”
Mack seemed to hold her breath. “Do you want to share that with me?”
Charlie fiddled with her silverware. So many years had passed since she’d been on a date. Maybe the rules had changed, but she was pretty sure the dating playbook didn’t constitute a deep dive into her childhood trauma. But Mack’s gentle, dark brown eyes burrowed into her, and her body relaxed.
“It sucked. Sometimes when I think back and try to process everything that happened growing up, I realize the worst part was the waiting—constantly anticipating if he’d show up. And if he did, what condition he’d be in. At night, I’d sit for hours by our trailer window wondering with each passing headlight if they were his.”
Mack put her hands on top of Charlie’s but then quickly shoved them under the table. “I’m so sorry. I can’t imagine how hard that was for a little kid. Were you ever in danger?”
Charlie bunched a napkin between her palms. “Hmmm. I guess? As much as a child being left alone is in danger. But my dad’s a sweet guy, you know? Sometimes I think that makes everything harder. Like if he were evil, I could hate him and move on.” The napkin was crushed by now, and Charlie tossed it on the table. “My sob story is probably not what you wanted to hear on our first date.”
“No, I love it. I don’t love that it happened to you, but I love learning about you.” Mack smiled. “Do you think this affected you as an adult? I’ve researched this stuff for my books but haven’t had this level of conversation before.”
“God, yes.” Hanging on to unhealthy relationships, check. Clingy, check. Worried everyone is leaving, check. “Gave me lots of trust issues—which were sometimes warranted.”
“How so?”
Charlie fixed her gaze on the table. “My ex-wife cheated on me.”
Mack flinched. “Are you serious? How the hell?—”
“Wait.” Charlie held up a hand to stop Mack from saying something that could turn this conversation. She rarely told anyone about Jess’s infidelity, but when she did, they all had the same reaction—anger. Yes, it was wrong and hurtful and deceitful, but the situation was complicated. “She wasn’t her best during that time. But neither was I. Every inch she pulled away from me, I gripped tighter. I was suffocating her and compromised myself. And technically we were separated…”
Through bites of their crispy empanadillas, Charlie continued. She told Mack about her deep desire to lay down roots, which counteracted Jess’s desire to travel. The catalyst of their relationship ending was when Jess couldn’t understand why Charlie wouldn’t sell the house Rosie left her to fund their trips. Jess couldn’t wrap her brain around how a structure symbolized her childhood safe haven, and the memories of baking muffins and drinking cocoa were worth more than trips to Italy.
Another round of spritzers ordered, and while Charlie sunk her teeth into the most amazing pastelón de carneshe’d ever had, she unloaded stories of her father’s weekend benders offset with coffee dates, nail painting parties, and scouring garage sales for cheap toys.
“I had a come-to-Jesus moment with myself. He’d never be my version of a normal dad, and I could either walk away or stay. And if I stayed, then I needed not to try to change him.” She wiped her greasy fingers off in a napkin. “What’s that saying again? Expect the worst, hope for the best? When he gets sober, I cheer him on. When he relapses, I no longer consider it a personal reflection on me.”
The waiter dropped off the dessert menu, and Charlie took a breath as she reviewed the flan, rum cake, and arroz con dulce. Talking to Mack over dinner was more than just easy. The conversation was downright therapeutic. Releasing the words simultaneously released years’ worth of tension. Not the sexiest of conversations, but it was intensely intimate. An oncoming vulnerability hangover lunged toward her.
Mack folded back into the seat. “I hate that it took this conversation, right now, to kick me in the ass. My parents might do some annoying things, but my memories consist of betting on marshmallows when we played Uno or taking the subway to Central Park on the weekends. I feel like I need to hug them when I get back.”
Charlie still couldn’t fully wrap her mind around how Mack didn’t bow daily to the universe in gratitude for winning the parental lottery. “I don’t want you to think I’m miserable. But you know… I married someone who wasn’t right for me because I was scared to be alone. But these last two years, I feel like a different person. Healthier. Happier.”
“And now you have a shop.”
Thankfully.Because she finally proved to herself that she could accomplish things on her own. Her dignity and self-worth did not have to link with someone else’s. And Charlie would’ve never met Mack otherwise.
Charlie took another sip of the spritzer, the liquid calming her dry mouth. She’d been speaking almost exclusively for close to two hours. Mack didn’t seem to mind and kept peppering her with questions. With every morsel she shared, Charlie’s attraction grew.
