“I don’t want you to take me. I want you to pretend you didn’t hear any of that. Got it? Not a fuckin’ word,” I growled.
Charlie didn’t flinch. He held my gaze, then shook his head. “You shouldn’t be alone in your condition.”
“Dude, I’m not pregnant. There’s nothing wrong with me. I’m…” I raked my fingers through my hair and shook my head. “I don’t know what I am.”
“Distraught?” he suggested.
“That’s a little dramatic.”
“I’m a little dramatic. But I’m also a good listener, and years of therapy have taught me that you should talk about your distress before it eats you alive.”
“Charlie. Listen up,” I growled in frustration. “I like you. I respect you. And I’m really sorry about tonight. I’m sorry I asked for a ride. I’m sorry I dragged you to this table. And I’m sorry you heard anything she said. I always go one step too far. Tonight is no exception. But I’m still not telling you anything.”
Charlie gasped, startling the woman sitting at the table next to ours. “You can’t leave me hanging! We just shared a heavy moment. Telenovela style. Your estranged father is dying, and his ex-wife thinks we’re boyfriends. News of our relationship might save him. And when he finds out I’m the father of your unborn child, things are going to get confusing. Or exciting. Or just weird.”
“You’re weird.”
“You already knew that.”
“True. I suspected you were crazy too, but I didn’t know for sure.” I narrowed my eyes and shook my head. “Father of my kid?”
“It was a metaphor…maybe. Hey, I come from a very strange place and I have some big issues, Ky. Big. Abandonment, trust, failure…”
“Are you saying your family is more fucked than mine?” I tugged at his curls playfully and smiled in spite of my crappy mood.
“It’s not a contest, but yes…it’s a strong possibility. There’s so much BS none of us can change or shake easily, but it helps to get it off your chest. I’m cheaper than a visit to your therapist. Tonight anyway.”
I studied his pretty blue eyes and pink lips and clenched my fist when the urge to run my fingers through his hair got a little too strong. “I don’t feel like talking about my dad, Charlie, but I’ll take you up on the ride.”
“Fabulous.” He hopped off his barstool and dug into his pocket for his valet ticket. “Shall we?”
I nodded, then wrapped my arm around his neck and deftly plucked the ticket from his fingers. My attempt at silly flirtation was meant to bug him and maybe reestablish a playful contentious vibe. It backfired big time when he turned and my nose rubbed against his cheek. The brush of skin and the scent of his cologne sparked a tsunami of desire inside me. I tamped it down and winked before heading for the door, waving the ticket high in the air.
“I’m driving, Charizard.”
Charlie didn’t do quiet well, but I gave him credit for dropping the “you should talk it out” discussion. He fiddled with the satellite radio, switching channels and skipping over a few of my favorite songs. Not a big deal, I reminded myself when he bypassed Radiohead, Queen, and Pearl Jam in quick succession before pausing at a Sade oldie. Halfway through the song, he turned the station again.
“Wait. I liked that one,” I said with a frown. “It’s got a killer bass line.”
He switched it back to “Ordinary Love” before twisting in his seat. “I can’t hear the bass, but I do love this song. It’s so romantic.”
“The bass is the song. And there’s nothing romantic about it. It’s a stalker song.”
“Stalker? I don’t think so. She sounds so perfectly wistful and dreamy…romantic.”
“Yeah, real romantic. Like she’s wondering if the high-powered binoculars she bought will be strong enough to see into her ex’s bedroom window,” I snarked, slowing as we entered the residential area near my place.
“Ugh. You make it difficult to be nice to you, Ky,” he sighed.
I let out a half laugh as I turned left on 2nd Street, pulling into an open spot a block away from my building. I put his BMW in park, then unfastened my seat belt and gave him a crooked smile.
“I don’t want you to be nice to me. You’re never nice and that’s cool ’cause I hate phony nice. It’s annoying as fuck. I’m gonna be really pissed off if you start acting funny around me because of anything Mona said tonight.”
Charlie huffed. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”
“Good. Forget about it, Char. Forget all of it.” I hiked my thumb in the general direction of my place and reached for the handle. “I’m gonna raid my liquor cabinet and hang out on my balcony, getting drunk and stoned. You coming?”
“Yeah. But to clarify…when you say ‘stoned,’ do you mean smoke pot? ’Cause I haven’t done that in years. The last time I got a serious case of the giggles and the munchies. Laugh-crying while shoving handfuls of Cheetos in my mouth is not a good look on me. I came home with orange shit all over my face and mascara running down my cheeks.” He shivered theatrically, then gave me a blank look that made me think he’d forgotten what he’d asked in the first place.