“He’s divorced, and he has a five-year-old daughter.”
Hmmm. Not so impressed anymore. “And you’re cool with that?” I ask carefully. “You’re only twenty-two, hon. Are you ready to be someone’s stepmother?”
“That’s the problem,” she moans. “I wasn’t even thinking that far ahead. Trevor and I met online. We were chatting all through September, but we didn’t meet in person until a month ago. He’s sweet. Smart, gorgeous, easy to talk to. But we’re still in the early stages of the relationship, you know? More casual than serious.” She taps her polished nails against the steering wheel. “When I saw him last weekend, he said he wants me to meet his daughter.”
Eek.
“Eek,” I say out loud.
“I know, right? So now I’m second-guessing the whole relationship. Meeting his kid is a huge deal. What if she hates me? Or worse, what if she loves me, and then me and her dad break up and this poor kid ends up traumatized?”
“She won’t fall in love with you after one meeting,” I assure her. “But I agree—this is a huge deal.”
Meg stops her little red Toyota at the intersection one block from Hastings’ main stretch. “I don’t know… I told him I’d let him know on Friday when I see him, but I’m super confused. I have no idea what to do.” She goes quiet for a second, then lets out a heavy breath. “If we go to Malone’s, can you DD on the way home? I might want something stronger than soda.”
“No prob.” I wasn’t planning on drinking tonight, anyway. I have rehearsal at seven a.m., and a pounding hangover will make it hard for me to cry on command. In the opening scene alone, my character wails like a newborn three times. “Should we go to another bar, though?” I ask hopefully. “Maybe the one in Munsen?”
“Why would we do that?”
I shrug. “The hockey crowd can get kinda rowdy.”
“I could use a little rowdy,” she admits. “Trevor is great, but he’s not much into partying anymore. He’s in bed by ten o’clock every night. Even on weekends.” Her bottom lip sticks out. “Maybe that’s another reason I should end it, huh?”
“Look, I’d never dream of telling you what to do,” I say gently. “And I’m not saying you should break up with someone just because their party days are behind them. But you’re in your senior year of college, hon. You shouldn’t be going to bed at ten if you don’t want to. You should enjoy this last year of freedom, in this weird place where you’re an adult but not an adult, know what I mean? Save the early bedtimes for next year when you become a card-carrying member of the real world.”
A pensive look crosses her expression. I can tell she’s absorbing the advice, and I hope she reaches a decision that makes her happy. God knows I’ve been dealing with tough decisions lately too. Breaking up with Sean. Figuring out where I want to take my acting career.
Walking into a bar to willingly spend time with the guy I had a one-night stand with…
Shit, what am I doing coming to the bar? Nothing good can be gained from seeing Dean tonight. Worse case, he’ll accidentally let something slip, and everyone will know that we hooked up. Best case, he’ll flirt shamelessly with me and just be plain annoying.
Since Malone’s is the only alcohol game in town, it’s the go-to place for both locals and Briar students every day of the week. If you show up after nine, you’re looking at standing room only. Meg and I waltz in at ten-thirty, and it’s like stepping into a sauna crammed with hundreds of sweaty bodies. The main room is jam-packed. I can barely see the counter because too many bodies are swarming in front of it, and the row of booths in the raised sections on either side of the main area are all occupied.
“I want to order a drink!” Megan shouts over the music. Some rock song I don’t recognize is blasting from the speakers. If Garrett Graham were here, he could probably tell me the name of the song, who’s singing it, and what year it was released. Hannah’s boyfriend has a hard-on for classic rock. I wouldn’t be surprised to find out he makes Hannah play Lynyrd Skynyrd role-playing games in bed.
We’re about to head for the bar when a familiar voice rises above the music. “Allie-Cat! Over here!”
I shift my head to see Dean waving at me from a large booth to my right. I don’t know how he spotted me in the throng of people. I hadn’t even texted him to say I was coming, so he’s either got exceptional Spidey senses or he’s been monitoring the door like a creeper.