Page 28 of 28 Dates

“I’ll share this with you.” I set it down on the counter and grab her electric opener from the corner. Making quick work of the cork, I open the bottle only to realize Caitlin’s standing there, watching me, a glazed expression in her eyes I can’t name.

“What’s wrong?” I ask.

She blinks like I’ve surprised her, and how that can be I’m completely unsure. I’m standing right in front of her.

“Oh. Nothing, it’s just…nothing.” She waves her hand in the air and spins on her heels, grabbing two wineglasses from the glass cupboard. I’ve teased her relentlessly about this cupboard. It has a glass-paned front, and everything inside of it is glasses. Every single type of drinking glass you can imagine is stocked inside Caitlin’s cupboards. Highball, champagne, red wine not only for Pinot, but also for Cabernet. She has three different kinds of white-wine glasses, some stemless, some with long, thin stems that I could snap in half with my fingers.

Her kitchen drinking cupboard is almost as well stocked as my bar, and I’ve more than once suggested she should get a job at Dirty’s, working with me as a sommelier, if she were to take a few classes to earn the registered title. It’d open up another specialized market, and I think it could be a great hit with the current popularity of wine. I’ve gone so far as to offer to pay for her to attend the courses and take the exams. Each time she’s looked at me like I’ve lost my mind.

Perhaps offering to pay and hire the woman you’re sleeping with isn’t the smoothest thing I’ve ever done.

She’s more than once declined, declaring I’d have to change the entire name of the bar.

We’ve spent hours discussing this before, scribbling down new names, and so far, the winner in my mind is still Dirty Drinks.

She thinks it reminds her of the time she was a kid and made mud pies.

I think it would up the male customer base tenfold.

“Where’d you go?” Caitlin asks, and this time it’s my turn to clear my head. She’s already filled both wineglasses, mine a stemless and hers with the dainty long stem. Her drink is at her lips.

I smirk, unable to help it. We’re friends, right? “I was wondering if you’ve given any more thought to becoming a sommelier.”

Her eyes flash, and she grins. Shaking her head, she says, “I think Dirty Martini’s is doing just fine without my contribution.”

She’s not wrong. Ever since I bought the place from the former owner and manager, I’ve been making a hefty profit. Still, one of the buildings next door might become available, and I like the idea of enlarging the space and expanding it to include wines from the most affordable to the kind reserved for elegant celebrations for people with the deepest pockets.

I drop it. Now’s not the time.

“I think we’re doing okay,” I say instead and gesture toward the living room. “Want to watch a movie?”

Her lips press together into a sly grin. Like she knows what I’m thinking, what I’m dreaming of, and like Caitlin, she doesn’t let it go.

She curls into a corner of the couch, pulling a blanket over her bare feet. I take the chair next to it so I can see the television but also her. It’s safer than curling on the couch next to her like I really want to do. But I’m here for her friendship.

Acting like a friend is paramount.

“You’re seriously considering it, aren’t you?” she asks. On the coffee table, the remotes are forgotten and her cellphone is facedown.

Did she toss it there, frustrated after I sent her that message earlier? It was a risk for sure, but I want to be able to talk to her via that messaging app without the pressure of revealing who I am too soon.

“The bar?” I take a sip of my drink.Get control of yourself.“Honestly, yes. Someday I’d like to expand.”

“But you’ve built such a perfect niche with the martinis and local beers. Even your food plates are incredible.”

Pride alights in my chest. Knowing she’s proud of me, what I’ve done, what I’m building and working for is everything. My family didn’t come from a lot of money even if we had a lot of love. My dad worked for a factory his entire life, and my mom was a receptionist at a dental office. We were slammed right at middle class if not below. I took off right after high school, bound and determined to make my own way without wasting years going to college and ending up six figures deep in student loan debt.

Some might not think a loser with only a high school diploma has any business owning a restaurant, but I’ve worked my ass off to learn everything I can about the restaurant business hands-on, and not sitting in a lecture hall. Frankly, I think I’m better for it. There’s only so much book smarts can teach you, but life experience trumps it every time.

Still, Caitlin has never looked down at me even though I know she comes from a hugely financially successful family. And from the small amount she’s said about her family, it’s not as if they’ve given her anything meaningful.

She tucks the blanket tighter around her feet, and I fight a smile. Her feet are always ice cubes and yet she refuses to wear socks. I don’t call her on it, instead, I think of the plans I have sketched in my office. Piles of scrap and graph paper where I’ve doodled designs, either completely remodeling the space I currently have or what it would look like if I can expand into the space next door. Plus there are budgets and estimates on start-up costs, construction, salaries, as well as the potential for losses. Either option is a huge financial risk, but I’ve been saving away for this since before I took over Dirty’s. And now that I know the business next door is in trouble, the potential for my dream to become a reality is closer than ever.

I pull out my phone and swipe a few pictures. While I’m looking for my favorite scribbled design so far, I tell her, “I’m looking into it. Not fully sure yet I have the capital, but you know that consignment store next door?”

“Sweet Seconds? Yeah, of course I know it.”

I find the picture and grin at her. “I think they’re closing. The landlord of the building has made more than one comment to me about how he doesn’t think they’re going to be able to re-up their lease.”

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