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“Oh wait, is that the same Owen that went to bat for you when some of the residents came out with pitchforks when you opened the tattoo parlor?”
“One and the same.”
Yeah, definitely liked the guy.
“So, about Zoe.” Lucas turned on his stool toward me. “Like Owen said, it was pretty rough going those first few days. Weeks, really. But we were able to work it out.”
“You and Charlee had a history, though. You knew what kind of person she was.”
“You’re saying you don’t know Zoe?”
I thought I did.
“Six months. She dated the guy for six months, wanted to marry him. And then starts texting me the same week they break up. What would you think? Especially if she forgot to mention the fact.”
Lucas frowned. “I might think she was afraid to mention it.”
“Because it looks bad.”
“Because it looks bad,” he agreed. “But that doesn’t mean it is bad. Assumptions can be dangerous. You know that.”
“I do.”
“You gotta talk to her. The fact that you’re here, and she’s”—he waved his hand in Zoe’s general direction—“right over there. I mean, come on.”
It was true. But I’d also been pissed. “It’s just not the reunion I’d been expecting.”
“Expectations also can be dangerous,” Lucas said.
“So now you’re a philosopher?”
“I hate philosophy.”
“Whatever you say.” I took a swig of beer.
“Nate, go talk to her.”
“Not tonight. I’d rather stay here. Catch up. Talk to her tomorrow.”
“Mmm, I think it’s a bad move. She might be ready to strangle you by the morning.”
“And that’s any different than right now?”
Lucas lifted his empty glass to Owen. “Your woman, your call.”
“Pfft. She’s not my woman. That’s the point.”
“So she omitted one little fact about her life. Big deal.”
“One little fact? That she was basically on the verge of getting engaged and broke up with the guy the same week we started talking? That’s not a little fact.”
“Sure, but it’s also irrelevant. She’s not with the guy anymore. But she is really, really into you. I was just with her the other day. There’s no doubt in my mind she likes you. A lot.”
“Maybe,” I said. “You mentioned food?”
Good timing. Owen had just reached us. “Two menus?”
“Please,” I said, suddenly starved. And ready for another beer. Or several.
