Page 26 of The Charm of You

Between us, Maren shrugs. “What can I say? I’m all about discounts and freebies, especially if tequila’s involved.”

“Tequila it is. Shall we start with shots?” Addie eyes us.

“It’s going to be that kind of night, huh?” I grin, enjoying the direction we’re headed in. It’s been a long freaking week; I could use some shots with old friends.

“It’s a night of worry-free fun. I will not obsess over float schedules, reunion details, or the fact that my face has broken out from all the stress. Because tonight? It’s karaoke night, baby,” Addie calls out, and the surrounding patrons whoop and holler along with us.

The energy around here is certainly infectious. It took me a long time to find a bar this friendly in Manhattan, and once I did, I basically sunk my claws into it and never let go. Beverly and I frequent it for happy hour with co-workers.

Am I still invited to those?

Oh, God. I have to start my meticulous search for a cute and welcoming bar all over again, don’t I? The thought practically gives me hives, as I remember all the bars I tried before I found the one. Most of the experiences involved giving one another the side eye and competing for the award of the best resting bitch face. There was a lot of elbowing for an open table or room on the dance floor too.

We didn’t have a cheering squad while the bartender poured tequila into three shot glasses like my present situation in Sapphire Creek. He loses two shots worth of alcohol to the bar, as it sloshes over the sides of the glasses.

Huddled together with our rowdy audience forming a half circle behind us, Addie, Maren, and I clink our glasses together, lick the salt off the rim, then toss back the pungent shot.

It burns my throat as I suck on the lime, and my smile curves around my current salvation.

“Put that on my tab please, Rivers, along with three Arnold Palmers,” Addie says, handing the bartender her credit card.

“Oh my God,” I whisper-squeal and pull Maren aside as the familiar guy behind the bar retrieves a dark brown bottle of sweet tea vodka. “Is that Cole Rivers?” She confirms with a simple nod, and I give him a once-over. He was the hottest upperclassman in high school. “Time has certainly been good to him. He looks better now than ever.”

Maren snorts. “He’s also a look but don’t touch kind of guy, as of last summer. He has a girlfriend in Atlanta, and from what I hear around the espresso machine, it’s really serious.”

“Oh, I’m not looking for a man.” I laugh like the thought is ridiculous. Which it is, given my secret state of limbo waiting for me in New York. “But good for Cole for finding someone. He’s a catch.”

“Who’s a catch?” Addie chimes in as she hands each of us a drink.

I toss my loosely curled hair over my shoulder and nod toward Cole behind the bar.

“Agreed, but let’s talk about juicier gossip for a second.” Addie bounces, which blurs the twinkle in her eyes as they land on Maren.

“Don’t.” She shakes her head vehemently and almost spills her drink. “I only came out tonight because you promised me a fun evening with Caroline.”

“This is fun!” Addie waves her arm over our triangle.

“And I’d like to keep it that way, which means there’s no talk of he-who-shall-not-be-named,” Maren says with a layer of warning beneath her words.

“Okay, I have to know—what’s going on?” I butt in.

“Nathan McAllister,” Addie confesses, gripping my free hand.

“That’s it. You spoke his name, and now I have to leave. I hope it was worth it.” A dramatic production ensues, where Maren huffs and sets her nearly untouched drink onto the bar. Then she clutches her purse strap over her shoulder like she’s ready to part with the bar, and us.

“Okay, okay, okay. I surrender. No more talk of your high school boyfriend, who is coming to the reunion, by the way.”

“He is?” Maren asks, and her purse strap slides off to rest in the crook of her arm as she leans forward, clearly intrigued. But instead of prying, she quickly adds, “Never mind. I don’t care.”

“Obviously. It’s why you asked me to confirm it with him three days ago.” Addie snorts as she scoops up the drink and puts it back into Maren’s hand.

“Is that how you’re going to play it? You’re going to throw a moment of weakness in my face? Because I have a few juicy bits up my sleeve too about a certain former baseball player who’s now your co-worker.” Maren devilishly wiggles her eyebrows toward Addie, then faces me. “She works with Owen Conrad, and she complains about him more than she breathes.”

“Because he’s a menace to our school—and society!” Addie’s outburst draws attention to us from the rest of the crowd.

I almost choke on my drink. “Owen moved back here? I didn’t know that,” I manage, flattening my palm against my chest as I clear my throat.

“He moved back this summer and teaches PE at the high school, and of course, all the students love him. The guy is a twenty-eight-year-old child. Why wouldn’t they love him?” She rolls her eyes.

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