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‘I can’t wait to experience that, but you can rest easy because I don’t cry in front of people unless it’s serious. You know, like the one day I cried in front of you.’
He cracks a shy smile. ‘I guess that’s something.’
‘It’s totally something. By the way, sorry I put you in that position. It was one of those cries I couldn’t control and you helped, so thank you.’
‘You’re welcome,’ he says like he did it on purpose. Maybe he doesn’t realize he’s better with teary-eyed women than he thinks.
‘Typically I’d rather escape a tearful situation by running into a dark, scary forest. I’d rather live a horror film than cry in public.’
‘Why?’
I shrug. ‘I’m not really sure. As kids when we’d get hurt, my dad would throw his hands into the air and excitedly congratulate us for living through it. He made it this big performance to take our attention off our skinned knees or broken hearts, and we giggled along with him as he fixed up what he’d call our boo-boos. I think the technique scared away any impending tears because we were busy celebrating. Now, my body questions whether a situation is worthy of the time and emotional energy it takes to cry. Usually, it’s not.’
River waves his fork my way. ‘That’s genius. I’m gonna need to write that down for when I have kids one day.’
‘You want to bring children into this hellfire world?’ I ask before shoving an embarrassingly huge chonk of chocolate into my pie hole. Somehow being around River feels comfortable. Like I can be myself without worry.
‘Isn’t that the American dream?’ he asks between bites. ‘Graduate, find your dream job, a romantic partner, buy a house, then pop out a few new personalities onto the earth and hope they don’t become serial killers or Kanye West.’
The laugh that leaves my lips earns our waiter’s attention as he delivers our appetizers.
‘One fry, one ring. Shall we encourage this laughter and get you two fresh drinks?’
‘How’d you get here?’ River asks.
‘Uber. You?’
‘Also an Uber. In that case, yes, good sir, keep the drinks coming!’
The drink I ordered is so sweet I practically pucker after each sip. But considering it’s full of vodka, the taste bud surprise also lessens with each sip. River is drinking a tropical drink filled with vodka, schnapps, and triple sec. It’s a berry-flavored sweet and sour thing that he knocked back pretty quickly before our appetizers were even served.
‘To answer your question before: I don’t know for sure if I want kids,’ River backtracks. ‘At one point I was on board with it. I mean, it’d be cool to have a mini-me, but truthfully, they seem like a lot of work.’
‘As someone who babysat often as a teen, I think parents should be paid by the hour for having kids, that’s how much work they are. Instead you just dish money out constantly and hope they stay alive.’
The front door not far from us dings open with hungry customers.
Our waiter drops our fresh drinks at our table. ‘I’ll check on you two later,’ he says.
‘This pie,’ River swoons between bites. ‘It’s totally what I nee—’ He stops talking, his eyes locked on the people being seated in the booth behind me. Slowly, the color drains from his face, and his fork clinks against the glass plate as he drops it.
‘Fuck, fuck, fuckety, fuck, fuck, fuck,’ he grumbles into his fist. He sits back in his seat, now rubbing his hands over his thighs with a heavy sigh.
‘What’s going on?’ I ask, a little worried about his sudden outburst.
Before he can answer and sooner than I can think of any follow-up questions, a female voice interrupts us.
‘River!’ The woman seems thrilled to have bumped into him. He, not so much.
He clears his throat excessively. ‘Caitlin,’ he says flatly. ‘And uh, Derek.’ That last name seems to roll off his tongue violently. ‘This is just fucking perfect,’ he says under his breath.
‘How are you?’ The tall brunette moves from her table to ours, forcing River to slide over and allow her to join us. He scoots to the wall uncomfortably, visibly trying to keep a distance between them as she invades his space without concern.
‘I’ve survived. Thanks for asking, five years later. How are you? Things look…’ He glances to their table, where Derek is softly rocking a baby carrier in the center of their table while ignoring us. ‘Is that a baby?’
‘Yeah.’ Caitlin beams, pulling her hands to her chest as if she just adores this kid. ‘Little Phoenix. He’s three months old and just the best baby ever. So adorbs; he’s Derek’s mini.’
Adorbs? I’m not enjoying this woman already and not just because she’s making my company uncomfortable in a way he’s starting to sweat.
