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“I’ll have what he’s having, please,” she said, nodding to my glass of wine.
“You haven’t even sat down yet and you need a drink.”
“This paper will be the death of me,” she said, sinking into the booth, exhausted.
“You could start your own damn paper if you ever accepted anyone’s help…”
“I don’t need yours, or anyone else’s money,” she said, waving me off. “Moving on. I’m not here to talk about me.Youcalled me.”
I sighed and took a long sip of wine before getting into it.
“What’s going on, Troy?” she asked, sitting back against the booth and studying me.
“It’s Monica…”
“Duh. You both seem miserable, and no one will tell me what’s going on.”
I stayed quiet for a moment, not knowing how to say the words out loud.
“I’m in love with her,” I said, defeatedly.
“Oh, my gosh,” she squealed and clapped her hands together excitedly.
Other patrons of the restaurant looked over curiously. Our server stopped by with her glass of wine and I was tempted to order another one.
“Will you stop that?” I covered my face with my hand to avoid the embarrassment of my flushed cheeks showing.
“Troy! This is huge!” she exclaimed.
“It’s not a big deal. Plus, it doesn’t even matter. She doesn’t feel the same.”
“How doyouknow?”
“Because I screwed everything up…”
I went on to tell her all about the meeting with our father and how it made me question my relationship with Monica. I got scared of what I could lose, and pushed her away like a coward. Then I told her about Veronica and her relentlessness in getting me back. She couldn’t believe what Veronica had done at the gala, and was even more appalled at the stunt she pulled after our parents’ anniversary party.
“That woman deserves a slap across the face,” she muttered into her glass of wine. “I’d be happy to do it.” She grinned.
I let out a low laugh just thinking about it.
“I don’t need you to do that. But I do need you to tell me how to get Monica back.”
“Well, it won’t be easy,” she said. “You’ve made a real mess of things, big bro.”
“Thanks. Thanks a lot.”
“I’m just being honest. If I were her, I would be running for the hills.”
“Thanks for the encouragement,” I muttered.
“Let me think about it, okay? Monica is smart, which is one of the reasons I like her so much. She’s not going to be wooed by just any little gesture. You really hurt her.”
“I know,” I admitted softly.
“But we’ll think of something,” she said, grabbing my hand and giving it a squeeze.
“I feel like I’m running out of time…”