“Ew. Who would put salad in a drink? It’s vodka, club soda, a little simple syrup, lime juice, mint, and some grated fresh ginger,” Winnie says. “You like?”
“It’s perfect. Light and fresh.” Exactly the opposite of how I feel. If I were a drink flavor, I’d be heavy and hopeless with a garnish of pessimism.
Beast hops up into Val’s lap, almost knocking over her drink. I close my eyes as I swing my feet up on the old trunk I use as a coffee table. Any minute now, the inquisition will begin.
As if on cue, Val nudges my foot with hers on the trunk. “Wanna start talking or are you going to make us drag it out of you?”
I sigh, looking down into my drink. “I don’t know where to start.”
“How about starting with Pat’s proposal?” Val suggests. “Was it romantic?”
“It was over chips in a Mexican restaurant, so no. I wouldn’t call it romantic.”
“Two proposals in one day and I don’t see you wearing a ring. Heartbreaker,” Winnie says appreciatively, lifting her glass. “Good for you.”
Val tosses a balled-up napkin at Winnie. “Let the woman talk. And who says it’s automatically the right thing for her to say no?” She turns to me. “Wait—did you say no?”
“I didn’t actually answer. I sort of just ran.”
“But you wanted to say no, right?” Winnie presses.
It’s not that Winnie is anti-man. But after helping scrape me up off the ground like a chewed-up piece of gum when Pat broke my heart, I understand why she’s pretty firmly against the idea of us getting back together.
“Objection!” Val says. “Leading the witness.”
Winnie grumbles. “What did you want to say?”
Val bounces up and down, shaking me and Beast with her. “Tell us everything! Every juicy detail.”
So, I do. I share all the details, from how I ate everything not nailed down to Pat’s confession of love （which made Val gasp） to me thinking he was going to lick my arm to his casual proposal. Winnie’s eyes narrowed when I mentioned Chevy’s involvement, and she laughed until she cried when I described running out of the restaurant while the mariachi band serenaded Pat.
When I’m done, all the ice has melted into my drink. Even watered down, it’s still delicious. Val raises her hand.
“Yes, Val. You have a question?”
“What Wolf said this morning—is it true? You need to get married to keep Jo?”
I turn my glass around and around in my hands. “It’s not so much that I need to get married. Ashlee didn’t suggest I go nab a husband or something.”
“I think that would be some kind of ethical violation,” Winnie says.
“Probably. But being married does help Rachel’s position. And being single might hurt my case.”
Winnie makes a frustrated sound and leans forward. “That is so stupid and so backwards. You are the best parent for Jo. Single, married, whatever.”
“Thanks.” I agree, but it feels so nice to have support.
Val shifts, pulling her legs up to sit cross-legged on the couch, facing me. “So, marrying Pat would help your position?” When Winnie glares, Val throws up a hand. “What? It’s a valid question.”
Winnie shakes her head. “Saying yes to Pat would mean opening herself up to a world of hurt. Again. And getting married for a reason like that is a terrible idea.”
“It’s an unconventional idea,” Val corrects. “Not terrible. It would help Lindy’s case, and I think she would do anything for Jo. Just like we would in her position.”