Page 193 of Accidental Husband
"The two in college, where you repeated the four years of high school?"
"Why do I talk to you?" She shakes her head with mock disdain.
"Beautiful face."
"No…"
"Massive cock?"
Her cheeks flush. "Well, um, I… That is true."
"Go on…"
"We're talking about uh… what are we talking about?"
"Your parents."
"Right. They, uh—"
"They're happy. Your mom and your stepdad."
She nods. "He's just kinda of…"
"Old?"
"Away a lot." She breaks eye contact to look around the restaurant. The Venice Beach cafe is tucked into a residential neighborhood, away from the tourist traps downtown. Or the hipster mecca of Abbot Kinney (which she loves. It has her favorite matcha shop).
We found the spot when I first moved here. It's a few blocks away, like an oasis in… God, it's hard to describe my neighborhood. It's not suburban or urban. It's somewhere in between.
I love Venice Beach, but it's a weird city. It tries, desperately, to hold onto its gritty parts, even as developers push to turn old houses into three-thousand-dollar-a-month lofts.
This place is a mix of both. The decor is pure 1950s—cherry red vinyl, bright white booths, jukebox in the corner. The food is hipster paradise.
Right on cue, a waitress drops off menus. "Can I get you something to drink?"
"Water," Jules says. "And a matcha latte. No sweetener."
The waitress turns to me.
"Coffee." I squeeze Jules's hand. "And water. Drained all my fluids fucking my wife."
Jules turns bright red.
"Uh… sure." The waitress clears her throat. "Did you want the regular coffee or a latte?"
"Cold brew," Jules answers for me. "With two percent milk."
The waitress nods with indifference. "You ready to order?"
"Yeah." I order for Jules.
She orders for me.
We know each other too well. We always get the same things.
Matcha pancakes with blueberries on top for her.
The veggie omelet with a side of bacon and an English muffin. Strawberry jam and butter for me.
