On the Rocks(55)

“Sweet-talker.”

“You know what I mean. But I get it, you’ve been through the ringer. Do you want my advice?” he asked.

“I’ve already told you, I don’t.”

“As a general rule, I think long-distance relationships are a bad idea.”

“And you apparently still don’t care.” I sighed.

“How could someone who hates modern technology, won’t get on Facebook, won’t use Twitter, detests all of that stuff—hell, you’d still have a rotary phone or a walkie-talkie if you could find one—think that dating long-distance is a good idea? With Ben, of all guys? Didn’t he move away and leave you here by choice?”

“I don’t want to talk about him. It’s complicated.”

“Maybe so, but from what I’ve heard through the grapevine . . .”

“You mean Grace?”

“I cannot reveal my sources.”

“Okay, Brian Williams.”

“It sounds like your ex was way too much like you in a lot of ways. It never would’ve worked. So it doesn’t matter how it ended, because it had an expiration date.”

“What are you talking about? You don’t even know him!”

“I don’t need to. I know his type.”

“Be careful here, Bobby,” I warned. I wasn’t about to let him completely degrade my almost-but-not-really-husband. Is nothing sacred anymore?

“You should seek out someone opposite to you. A yin to the yang, if you will.”

“Oh God, now you’ve gone Far Eastern on me. I appreciate it, but I really don’t want to talk about it, okay?”

“Okay. Anyway, don’t let it get you down. You’re doing great. You’re a whole different person than the one I met Memorial Day.”

“Do you mean that?” For some reason, it made me feel better if he actually meant it. Maybe it was because I knew Bobby would never hand out empty praise, or maybe it was because I had grown to actually value his opinion. Just a little bit.

“Sure,” he said as he stood and brushed the sand off his calves. “Are you ready to go join the party? Or are you going to stand over here by yourself to contemplate how much you hate your life and leave me alone with all the Chads?” He smiled a crooked grin, almost goofy, but somehow still . . . cute.

“I think you can take them,” I joked. I grabbed his hand, and he pulled me up from the sand.

“That’s what I’m afraid of. Can’t you just see the headlines on the news? ‘Crazy Unemployed Lawyer Kills Multiple Chads in Newport Beach Brawl.’ ”

“You’re right. I wouldn’t want to be responsible for that. Let’s go.”

We walked back toward the reggae band and the large bonfire that was burning about a hundred yards away. “I’ll leave you to find Grace,” he said. “Cheer up. It’s just underwear.”

I laughed out loud. Indeed it was. “Thanks for the beer and for the chat. I actually feel much better.”

“Don’t sweat it, and don’t waste your time worrying about the wedding and all that girl stuff. It’s a Saturday on the beach. You’re supposed to be having a good time.”

“I am. I promise.” I might have even meant it. I wasn’t sure.

I wove through the crowd looking for Lara and Grace, digging through my clutch for my phone. When I checked it, I discovered that I had two text messages from Ben. I refused to check them. Instead, I silenced my ringer and threw it back in my purse. I felt better after talking to Bobby and was determined to enjoy this party. I didn’t see Lara anywhere and realized that she’d opted to stay home rather than join us for the party. I knew better than anyone that if she wanted to be alone, there was nothing anyone could do to force her out, but I figured at least I had tried. Sometimes that’s all you can do.

I gazed into the crowd, trying to locate Grace, and before I knew what happened a guy who was apparently chasing a wayward football knocked me on my ass. So much for that.

“What the hell?” I said as I tried to get my bearings. This was getting ridiculous. Now strangers at parties were physically assaulting me. People wouldn’t believe this if I told them.

“Oh Jesus, I’m so sorry, I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going,” the guy said as he helped me up. “Are you okay?” he asked as he awkwardly tried to brush sand off my legs.

“No, I’m fine. It was my fault. I wasn’t paying attention either,” I said as I shook out my hair.

“I’m Pete,” he said with a smile, revealing a slightly crooked left incisor. I caught myself wondering if he would be adverse to Invisalign braces to fix his snaggletooth.

It was becoming painfully obvious that I really needed to rewire my brain.

“I’m Abby,” I said shyly. I pushed my hypercritical thoughts to the back of my mind where they belonged. If he was looking at me the same way I was examining him, I was screwed. I’d missed my last lip wax appointment, so he was probably wondering if I was planning on auditioning for the role of the bearded lady in the circus. I had to try to get to know this guy, see if we had anything in common, figure out if he was a serial killer before I eliminated him as an option.

“Listen,” he said as he awkwardly scratched the nape of his neck. “The least I can do is buy you a beer after I mowed you over like that. Care to accompany me to the keg?”