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“If you want red flags, I’ve got ’em.” Heshook his popcorn bucket. “I’m getting more. Want some?”
I held up my hand to decline. “I don’t knowhow you have room for popcorn after a seven-course meal.”
He stood and went to the back of the smalltheater, where the old-timey popcorn machine was. “There’s alwaysroom for popcorn.”
“And no, I’m not looking for red flags,” Icalled, continuing our conversation from before. We’d seen themovie so many times, we could quote it by heart, so I didn’t feelbad talking over it. “I don’t think there’s anything that couldmake me want to end things.”
“What if I told you she had a pet bear?” hedropped back into his seat and propped his feet on the back of thenext row.
“That might be the only thing that wouldgive me pause.” I added, “I’m glad you can joke about it now.”
“It’s not super easy, but I’ve moved intothe anger phase of my grief.” He stuffed a handful of popcorn intohis mouth.
“Good. I’m glad. Because youshouldbe angry.” I stopped myself. “Sorry, I shouldn’t tell you how tofeel.”
“I wish someone would. Where the fuck wereyou a few months ago?” He reached under the seats for thetwelve-pack of soda we’d snagged from the kitchen. “Oh, right. Youwere recovering from getting attacked by my bitch ex’s stupidbear.”
“I take it you’re not on speaking terms withher yet? The woman, not the bear,” I clarified.
“I don’t plan on having any contact witheither of them ever again. And not because she left me at thealtar. Honestly, she could have called me two days later, said,‘I’m sorry, I made a huge mistake, let’s go to the courthouse andget married,’ and I would have said, ‘what time?’ But with thebenefit of hindsight, I see now how she treated the people who wereimportant to me.”
My arm tightened protectively aroundCharlotte. “I fully understand.”
His gaze fell to my hand on her shoulder. “Iknow you do.”
We sat in silence, the movie playing infront of us, but it was clear neither of us were focused on itanymore.
Scott broke the quiet. “One of the problemswith Lauren, I think, was that we were so isolated from everyonewhile we were dating. We were both far from our families, and ourfriend groups in New York were pretty small and casual.”
“I think it’s normal for a couple to isolatethemselves a little, right at the beginning,” I said, knowing fullwell that I was making an excuse for myself.
“Sure,” Scott agreed, seeminglynone-the-wiser. “But when we ended up engaged and only visitingherfamily? Red flag.”
Visit Charlotte’s family, I mentallynoted.
“What was going to happen when we had kids?”he went on. “Were they never going to see my parents because ‘it’stoo far to travel’? I mean, I guess that’s not going to be aproblem for me anymore. If I do find someone else, I won’t begetting married until I’m like, fifty.”
That remark made me weirdly defensive, froma place I did not want to examine too closely. “Fifty isn’t too oldfor kids.”
“If I marry a woman in my age-group, it willbe,” he said. “Age-group” came out a little bit pointed.
“Fair.” Since having kids had never been mypriority, I hadn’t thought about it.
He sighed. “I think it’s time to face thefact that I’m awful at love.”
“No, you’re awful at picking the people youlove.” Not that I had room to talk.
Until now.
Charlotte stirred a little. And snored.
Scott chuckled. “Yeah, I would say so.”
“Watch it. You’re talking about mygirlfriend,” I warned. “Anyway, don’t set yourself up for failure.Your life isn’t over because this one bad thing happened toyou.”
“Apply that logic to your leg,” he replied,matching my tough-love tone.
“I’ll try.” And I would likely fail. Atleast at the moment. “It’s hard, though. Do you know how much Iwould pay to be able to scoop her up and carry her to bed, insteadof waking her up and being like, ‘Sorry, you have to walk and bythe way, I might need your assistance stabilizing myself?’”