I take a sip, and it’s actually very refreshing. And a little … spicy? “What’s in it? It looked like you brought a whole salad with you.”
“Ew. Who would put salad in a drink? It’s vodka, club soda, a little simple syrup, lime juice, mint, and some grated fresh ginger,” Winnie says. “You like?”
“It’s perfect. Light and fresh.” Exactly the opposite of how I feel. If I were a drink flavor, I’d be heavy and hopeless with a garnish of pessimism.
Beast hops up into Val’s lap, almost knocking over her drink. I close my eyes as I swing my feet up on the old trunk I use as a coffee table. Any minute now, the inquisition will begin.
As if on cue, Val nudges my foot with hers on the trunk. “Wanna start talking or are you going to make us drag it out of you?”
I sigh, looking down into my drink. “I don’t know where to start.”
“How about starting with Pat’s proposal?” Val suggests. “Was it romantic?”
“It was over chips in a Mexican restaurant, so no. I wouldn’t call it romantic.”
“Two proposals in one day and I don’t see you wearing a ring. Heartbreaker,” Winnie says appreciatively, lifting her glass. “Good for you.”
Val tosses a balled-up napkin at Winnie. “Let the woman talk. And who says it’s automatically the right thing for her to say no?” She turns to me. “Wait—did you say no?”
“I didn’t actually answer. I sort of just ran.”
“But you wanted to say no, right?” Winnie presses.
It’s not that Winnie is anti-man. But after helping scrape me up off the ground like a chewed-up piece of gum when Pat broke my heart, I understand why she’s pretty firmly against the idea of us getting back together.
“Objection!” Val says. “Leading the witness.”
Winnie grumbles. “What did you want to say?”
Val bounces up and down, shaking me and Beast with her. “Tell us everything! Every juicy detail.”
So, I do. I share all the details, from how I ate everything not nailed down to Pat’s confession of love (which made Val gasp) to me thinking he was going to lick my arm to his casual proposal. Winnie’s eyes narrowed when I mentioned Chevy’s involvement, and she laughed until she cried when I described running out of the restaurant while the mariachi band serenaded Pat.
When I’m done, all the ice has melted into my drink. Even watered down, it’s still delicious. Val raises her hand.
“Yes, Val. You have a question?”
“What Wolf said this morning—is it true? You need to get married to keep Jo?”
I turn my glass around and around in my hands. “It’s not so much that I need to get married. Ashlee didn’t suggest I go nab a husband or something.”
“I think that would be some kind of ethical violation,” Winnie says.
“Probably. But being married does help Rachel’s position. And being single might hurt my case.”
Winnie makes a frustrated sound and leans forward. “That is so stupid and so backwards. You are the best parent for Jo. Single, married, whatever.”
“Thanks.” I agree, but it feels so nice to have support.
Val shifts, pulling her legs up to sit cross-legged on the couch, facing me. “So, marrying Pat would help your position?” When Winnie glares, Val throws up a hand. “What? It’s a valid question.”
Winnie shakes her head. “Saying yes to Pat would mean opening herself up to a world of hurt. Again. And getting married for a reason like that is a terrible idea.”
“It’s an unconventional idea,” Val corrects. “Not terrible. It would help Lindy’s case, and I think she would do anything for Jo. Just like we would in her position.”
Hearing them go back and forth like I’m not here is oddly validating. Mostly because I’ve been having the same arguments in my own head.
“Plus,” Val continues, “we all know Lindy still has feelings for Pat.”
I hold up a hand. “Wait—we do?”
They ignore me.
“It’s too complicated,” Winnie insists. “The motives are mixed. Are they getting married to help Lindy keep Jo? Or because they want to get married?”
Val shrugs. “Why not both?”
The two of them finally remember I’m here. “Forget our thoughts,” Winnie says. “This is your decision, Lindy. Think fast: do you want to marry Pat?”
“No.” The answer is like a reflex, a leg twitch after being hit in the knee with the doctor’s tiny mallet. But it’s not the truth, or at least not the full truth. It’s more like what I think I should say. “And yes.”
I cover my face with my hands. Val squeals, and Winnie sighs. The feral cat purrs her approval loudly.
“Even if part of me wants to, marriage is huge. It’s marriage. And Pat … really hurt me.” I swallow and look down, picking at the hem of my jeans. “He apologized, and he seems sincere about all this. But I don’t know if I trust him not to hurt me again. And even though this would be to help Jo, if he left, it would be hurting her too.”
“Do you really think he’d do that?” Val asks.
I shrug. “He’s the kind of guy who jumps from thing to thing to thing.”
And from woman to woman, I don’t add. I still can’t shut out the images of all those photos I saw on the gossip sites of Pat, my Pat, smiling and laughing with other women. He jumped into a marriage once already, then jumped out almost as fast. These thoughts make my stomach turn over.
“You’re scared because you’re still in love with him.” Winnie’s voice is dry, but surprisingly free from disapproval.
I’m already shaking my head. Another reflex. I’m full of reflexes tonight. Why does it seem like they’re all doing the opposite of what they should?
“No, I’m—”
“Sorry, chica,” Val interrupts. “It’s true. You never got over him. And it seems clear he isn’t over you. I mean, that whole jealousy thing when he was in that cell?” Val fans her face. “So hot.”
“So very caveman. Typical male.” Winnie rolls her eyes.
“Exactly,” Val says with a sigh. “I want someone to go caveman over me.”