Charlotte swallows hers as well, and then slams her glass down on the railing. “I think that sentiment deserves one more, don’t you?” she asks me.
“For new friendships? You’re damned right,” I grin at her as I pour another round. We pound them down. Then, as I place my glass down, Charlotte stands up, craning her neck to look back inside and see across the dance floor.
“That’s not good,” Charlotte mutters. I turn to try to follow her line of sight across the club.
“What’s not good?” I ask, leaning in close to her ear to speak. Not just because of the music being so loud, but because her scent is…
“That!” Her finger points to the dance floor where Verek is grinding hard on a redhead. A woman I quickly recognize as Charlotte’s friend, the bride-to-be.
“She’s a grown woman. I’m sure she’s just having a little fun before the big day,” I assure the uptight widow. “Did you have cold feet before your wedding?”
“No, of course not,” she says. I’m pretty sure I hear an indignant scoff in her reply.
“Right. Because Adam was perfect, and you never had any doubts about how much you loved him or he loved you,” I mutter.
“What?” Charlotte asks, turning her face to me with her brow furrowed.
“Nothing. You want to dance?”
“No.” Her refusal comes before the question has barely left my mouth.
“All right. We’ll just sit out here and watch all of your friends have a good time.”
After a few moments of neither of us speaking, I can’t help but ask, “You haven’t been with anyone since Adam, have you?”
Squaring her shoulders, she says, “That’s none of your business.”
“I could make it my business,” I offer, to which she simply rolls her eyes.
A few seconds later, Charlotte faces me directly with her eyes blazing. “What Adam and I had was five years of marriage. He was my best friend, my soulmate, my…everything! And while he may be gone, that doesn’t mean that I’m ready to just forget him and move on with some one-night stand that would probably just be awkward and not very good.”
“Not very good?” I repeat loudly. “Woman, everything I do is in-fucking-credible, especially in the bedroom.”
“Sure it is,” she huffs with a shake of her head. “That’s what all men think, but women don’t want their brains screwed out in some quick rut. They want a connection. Romance. Friendship. Love.”
“And you don’t think it’s possible to have any of that with anyone other than your dead husband?”
“Wow, that’s some way to talk about your ‘friend’,” she replies, using air quotes while staring out at the crowd of sweaty, dancing bodies with what can only be described as longing on her face, regardless of what her mouth says. “How do you think Adam would feel about you hitting on me?” she asks.
“I think he would approve,” I tell her honestly, which makes her neck swivel in my direction again before she gets to her feet.
“Well, I don’t,” she says.
“All right then, let me rephrase that. I think he would want you to be happy.”
Charlotte’s eyes widen, and I swear I catch a glimpse of tears before she looks away. “I think I’ve had enough alcohol and loud music for one night. Goodbye, Roman,” she says as she begins to walk away.
“Leaving already?” I ask when I catch up with her. “You’ve been here less than an hour!”
“So?”
“So, I don’t think you know how to relax or have a good time.”
“I don’t really care what you think,” she says when she starts toward the dance floor, her eyes seeking out her friends. “Bev! Sydney!” she yells and waves at the women, who are dancing a few feet apart together. When they come over, she asks loudly, “Have you seen Ruth or Tessa?”
“Ruth is in line for the powder room,” Bev replies, pointing out the woman, who holds up a finger and does a dance that I’m pretty sure indicates she has an urgent need to take a piss.
“And Tessa?”
“She was just here!” Sydney exclaims. “Dancing with one of those hot biker guys.”
“His name’s Verek,” I inform them as I search him out in the crowd. “And…he’s gone too.”
“Gone?” Charlotte yells. “With Tessa?”
“Maybe. Is it still considered cheating if she goes home with him but isn’t married yet?”
“Yes!” all three women shout at me with their eyes narrowed like I’m the one who is screwing their soon-to-be-married friend.
“Maybe they just went somewhere to talk!” I offer, almost with a straight face, even though I don’t even buy that bullshit.
“Call him!” Charlotte demands.
“Fine,” I agree, pulling out my phone from my pocket. “Let’s head outside so I can hear better. Not that he’ll answer if he’s mid-thrust…”
“Roman!” Charlotte slaps my shoulder like it was supposed to hurt as I lead the way to the balcony.
“Just being honest.” Something her husband obviously wasn’t.
“Tessa wouldn’t sleep with anyone else! She loves Paul.”
“Right, because when you love someone, it’s impossible to ride someone else’s dick.”
Another scoff from Charlotte. “I-I can’t even with you!”
By now, we’re all outside; and as soon as the door shuts, it seals the music inside. We paid a small fortune to make the place as soundproof as possible to avoid neighboring businesses from bitching.
I find Verek’s number in my contacts and call him, putting the phone on speaker so the women can hear him too.
“Yo, what’s up, prez?” he answers.
“Where are you?”
“Just left, heading back to my place, why?” he asks, making all the women wince.
“You got a girl with you?”
“Fuck yeah,” he answers, causing Charlotte to emit a most unladylike curse.
“Do you know her name?” I ask.
“Why?”
“Just answer the question!”
“Ah, hold on. Hey, sweetheart, what did you say your name was? Daisy? That’s a beautiful name, darlin’. Now, run on inside the house, take off your dress and get in my bed,” he tells her before saying to me, “She says her name is Daisy, prez. Why?”
“So you’re not with the redhead you were dancing with, a girl named Tessa?”
“Nope,” he replies. “She said she needed to go get some air, but she didn’t come back, and then Daisy here saw me about to get on my bike out back and asked for a ride.”
“Right, yeah,” I tell him. “Sorry to bother you.”
“No problem,” Verek says before the phone beeps as he abruptly ends the call.
“So, good news. Your friend isn’t cheating on her fiancé,” I tell the women.
“Then where is she?” Charlotte asks. She pulls her phone out of the tiny crossbody purse she is wearing and puts it to her ear while we all wait silently. “It went to her voicemail. Let me try texting her.”