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Groaning, I drop my face to my desk, smacking my head off the dark walnut three times for good measure.
“Knock, knock, little strawberry!”
Charlee’s too-chipper Monday morning voice makes my groan louder, deeper. Now I sound like a man. I should have never told her about the little strawberry nickname that Avery coined.
“Oh, snap out of it, Claire Bear.”
She slams something down on my desk and I let my head flop to the side, spying that giant iced coffee. I reach greedily for it, like a fiend about to get their fix.
“I love you, I love you, I love you.” It’s a moan if I’ve ever heard one.
“Love you too, babe.” She sinks to the couch by the window and slings one leg over the other, bouncing one strappy, heeled foot in the air.
“I was talking about my drink.” I slurp on the straw, letting my eyes roll into my head.
“Then you can forget about the muffin I got you.”
With my best pout, I tell her, “But I love you more than my iced coffee.”
Chuckling, she tosses a paper bag on my desk. “How you feeling this morning? Aaron still delusional and hoping for a reunion?”
I lean back in my chair, swiveling side to side. “I honestly don’t know what he’s thinking but the only thing calling me a slut is going to get him is a swift kick in the balls.”
All weekend. Name-calling followed by an apology and an I love you. He either doesn’t have a brain cell left in his head, or he’s incredibly naive. I’m leaning toward the lack of brain cells.
“I personally think you should have fucked Avery.”
I’ve been thinking about that too for the last forty-eight hours, in a constant battle of Should I have? No, I shouldn’t have. Yes, I fucked up. I totally should’ve. No Claire, you did great. Good for you, gal! I feel like I have multiple personalities and every single one of them is just fucking exhausted.
But I know I made the right decision. I’m not ready for that. Our chemistry was unreal, I’ll give him that. But, for me, it never ends at one night. The last thing I want is to be someone’s cling-on because I get attached too quickly, too easily. When I’m in, I’m in. Until I’m out. I’m out now, with Aaron. And never again will that man be in.
“We’re not the same type of people,” I tell Charlee.
“I don’t get it. You just got out of a relationship and you don’t want to get into another one right now, so what would be the big deal if you just had some fun with a nice man with an even nicer face? Plus, that body.” She tips her head back and lets out an exaggerated shudder, paired with a loud moan. Charlee is nothing if not dramatic.
“It’s a moot point, because I’ll never see him again.” I wave a flailing hand in front of my face and turn to my computer, booting it up. It’s about time; I’ve been at work for forty-five minutes and haven’t done a damn thing. It also distracts from the fact that I’ll never see Avery again, which makes me sadder than it reasonably should.
Charlee sighs and runs her fingers through her blond hair, uncrossing her legs. She blows on the hot drink in her hand and stares up at me with her soft chocolate eyes. “Still can’t believe you didn’t get his number. You could have just kept it in your back pocket or something, used it down the road when you were looking for a fun night. Or, you know, given it to your best gal pal,” she adds with a wink.
My eyes narrow. “If I can’t hook up with him, neither can you.” That jealous pit in my stomach reels it’s angry head already, even though I: A) don’t even know Avery; B) have no claim to him; and C) didn’t even really hook up with him. This is exactly why I don’t and can’t do casual, and a prime example of why I need to chill the hell out on the man front for, like, a year.
Charlee sticks her tongue out at me, and I show her mine right back.
“Do you two ever do any work around here?”
My head snaps to the door of my office and I grin up at Dex, my boss and Charlee’s older brother. “Morning, Dex.”
Dex is the best. He started Cherry Lane Brewing Company nearly five years ago in Jordan Valley, our little hometown in the middle of wine country in Southern Ontario. It was tiny when it started as a little backyard brewery but took off so quickly that he moved the whole operation to Toronto after only a year-and-a-half. When I finished my business degree, he begged me to come join him at the brewery.
I have no official job title, but he always calls me his second in command. If he isn’t around, I’m the go-to. I delegate jobs downstairs in the tasting room, oversee some of the production in the beer house, and manage most of the office staff. The only person who knows more about Cherry Lane is Dex himself.
Dex rounds my desk and pulls me out of my chair for a hug like he does every morning. He’s one of my favorite huggers, all big and cuddly, soft and warm like a bear.
And because Charlee is Charlee and she’s forever making things awkward, she says in the most nonchalant manner, “I told Claire you and her should be fuck buddies until she’s ready to move on.”
Dex freezes in my arms and I shove him off me, smoothing my dress down my hips and fixing my hair which is still perfectly in place. Then I hit Charlee with a scowl.
“Can you just not? Can you not make things awkward for once in your life?” I glance at Dex who looks straight-up frightened, hands shoved in his pockets, looking anywhere but at me. “Don’t worry, Dex. I’ve kicked her off this horse a thousand times. She’s nuts. How’d you turn out so normal?”
