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I slide into a wine-red leather booth with Karl. It’s in the shape of a horseshoe, but for the time being Karl respects my space enough to sit across from me instead of scooting until he is next to me. He signals the bartender before turning all his rapt attention back to me.
“So why did you bring me back here? To gloat in peace?” I ask.
“I was actually going to start out with an apology, if you’ll let me, but I’m not so sure you will.”
I wave my hand in a signal for him to continue.
“I want to apologize for our last few meetings; the unfortunate incident with your sister's bookshop and our meeting at the mall.” His tone is more serious and humble than usual which catches me off guard. He sounds rather honest, but who knows for sure. It’s Karl, after all. “I was still feeling quite stung and jilted by losing you from my life so suddenly, and I was lashing out. A behavior that I’m much too old for, no doubt.”
“No shit.”
He looks offended before sighing. “You continue to be a difficult part of my life that I seem to be addicted to.”
I make a show of checking my nails, ignoring him for longer than is socially acceptable, before finally shrugging nonchalantly. “I can consider forgiving you if you promise me to never, and I meannevermess with my family in any way, shape, or form again. This is between you and me. You had no right to go and try to take that bookshop from us.”
“Agreed.”
“Like I said, I’ll consider it.” I can see he wants to talk about it more, so I move the conversation along before we can get any more in depth about his lingering feelings for me. Overly clingy clients are always a kind of risk for the work I do and dealingwith them never fails to be distasteful. “Now what special libation did I come over here for?”
As if on cue, the bartender appears with a dark brown, nearly black bottle that he’s cradling with both hands, wrapped in a pristine white towel, while another server places two round-bellied snifter glasses in front of each of us. Karl declines the offer to pour the drink for us and dismisses the bartender, so he and I are alone again.
I turn the dark bottle so I can better see its aged, tan label. It reads, in blood-red script “Vintage Port,” “Special Label,” and below that, “Dows.” It’s just slightly colder than room temperature, and while I don’t know much about the port, I can tell it’s special.
“Why do I feel like this is a ridiculously expensive bottle and you’re going to lord it over me once we drink it?” I ask suspiciously.
“I told you I had something special. Something tells me that you could use a little indulgence after that week you’ve apparently had.”
He sounds sincere, but I’m still skeptical, and I chew my lip as I consider it. Finally, I nod, and with a wolfish grin, Karl opens the bottle. He pours the ruby liquid into our snifters with careful precision, the port thick, dark, and aromatic.
My first sip of it is jammy and strong enough that I can feel it in my sinuses, but once it has time to mellow on my tongue, it’s undoubtedly something incredible. The port is rich, earthy, and I actually sigh before I take another drink.
“Good?” Karl asks, and his tone is strained.
Realizing I’m probably looking almost indecent in my enjoyment, I straighten my posture and sit the snifter down. “Fantastic. Almost worth my time, even.”
Karl chuckles as he relaxes, draping his arms over the back of the booth. “Since we’ve got some time with you finishing yourdrink, why don’t you tell me what exactly happened with you and your boyfriend?”
Scowling at him over the rim of my snifter, I consider the idea. There’s no way Karl is trying to comfort me. This has to be a tactic to get either under my skin or fish for information that can be used to manipulate me in the future. Still… I can give him a little information without it biting me in the ass, I think. I don’t know if it’s the port or seeing everyone else with their tongues down each other's throat, but I really want someone to talk to.
“I’m not going to get into specifics with you… it’s just safe to say that we had conflicting ideas of the future and my business plans. That’s all.”
He leans forward in interest. “So does that mean it was an amicable split?”
“Ah, no, not really…” I let my words trail off, before giving another sip of my port.
“Hmm, interesting… Did he not like you being an escort, then?”
I bite the inside of my lip, trying to decide how to skate the subject safely without him figuring out how vague I’m being. “It just didn’t work out, okay? Andries and I are two very different people. I thought we could work through our differences, and he didn’t. It’s that simple.”
“It doesn’t sound like it’s simple at all for you, Roxie.” Karl tips back the rest of his drink before reaching across the table to drag a finger down my cheek. I freeze, pushing him away, and to my surprise he backs off without any fight, just sad affection written on his face. “He’s a fool. I’m sure he’ll figure it out sooner rather than later.”
“Speaking of splits… how’s your divorce proceeding?”
“Actually, it’s finished, finally. I thought we’d never agree to everything, but I just signed the papers recently.” He holds up his left hand, empty of any ring. “I’m officially a free man.”
“Congratulations,” I say, and I mean it. “I know it was a difficult process for you.”
“It’s just nice to be able to move forward finally, instead of being mired in the past.”
