Drew. Angela had only covered the basic plot points when they'd gotten interrupted by the waiter bringing dessert.
"So finish what you were saying about Drew," Reese said now.
Angela shook her head while she finished swallowing. "That's pretty much it. It just seems like he gets mad at me all the time—not that we ever actually address anything. I guess I'm hovering, but I really don't mean to. Oh, I don't know; the whole thing's so frustrating."
"Yeah, I understand," Reese said sympathetically. "Well, maybe Drew's just projecting his own anger onto you. Like maybe it's not you he's mad at, just the situation—what happened and how his life is different?"
Angela crunched on a chunk of ice that she'd spooned out of her daiquiri (which was a virgin, like her second had been). "Well, that's why I signed him up for a support group last week. It's for heart attack recoverees."
"Oh, that was a good idea," Reese said encouragingly.
"Yeah, but then he got this ludicrous idea in his head that the group was for 'old' people. Just because the meetings are held at the Twilight Pastures Retirement Village." Reese reserved comment. "I mean, where does he get this stuff?"
"Hmm."
Angela pushed her plate and glass forward. "Ugh, I feel sick."
"Me, too," Reese said, feeling a headache coming on, too, which threatened to ruin her buzz. "So he didn't end up going to the support group, then?"
"Oh, no, he went. He just sulked before and after, and probably during, for all I know."
Reese held her tongue because she didn't like giving unsolicited advice, especially to her sisters, who would definitely ask for advice if they wanted it. But it was difficult not to take a firmer hand with Angela, and insist that she be more confrontational with Drew. If they were ever truly going to fix things, they'd have to talk about what had happened.
Just then the waiter came over. "Anything else, ladies?" He smiled down at them in that flirty way young waiters always did to enhance their tips. It didn't even matter if they were good-looking or not; they still did it. Apparently they assumed that most women wanted to be flirted with. "Just the check," Angela said.
"Nooo problem," he said, and ripped the check off his pad. Angela already had her gold card out, so he took it and, before sauntering off, reflashed his smile.
Reese felt a little too fuzzy to smile back. Not to mention all the alcohol was starting to go south and settle in a pool of heat between her legs. Great, she was sitting in the middle of the Laughing Frog—with her sister, for Pete's sake—and she was suddenly feeling horny. That figured. Too much alcohol. Not enough sex. As close as she and Angela were, there was no way she would confess that bit of trivia.
"Reese?"
"I wonder if I'll ever have sex again," she blurted.
"What?" Angela said, letting out a laugh. "Where did that come from?"
"I don't know," Reese said. "Not that I've ever had really unbelievable sex or anything, but..." She expelled a sigh. "It's just been so long since I touched a man, I guess it's starting to get to me."
"What do you mean? What about that guy from your program, Kenneth?"
Reese scoffed. "Not even close."
"Really?" Angela sounded surprised. "Why not? What's wrong with him?"
"I don't know, nothing. It's... me." She sighed, feeling a little of the blueness creeping back. "I'm starting to realize that men just don't think of me like that."
Angela snorted. "Puh-lease, of course they do. You just don't put yourself out there."
"What's that got to do with it?"
"Well, if you've only got a few guys to base your experiences on, then you're not getting a very accurate reading. I mean, do you know how many duds I went out with before I met Drew?"
"So what are you saying?" Reese asked, slumping lower in her chair. "That I've got to date a string of losers before I find the right person?" Actually, that sounded pretty reasonable, and definitely true. That must have been why she hated hearing it.
"No,
"So finish what you were saying about Drew," Reese said now.
Angela shook her head while she finished swallowing. "That's pretty much it. It just seems like he gets mad at me all the time—not that we ever actually address anything. I guess I'm hovering, but I really don't mean to. Oh, I don't know; the whole thing's so frustrating."
"Yeah, I understand," Reese said sympathetically. "Well, maybe Drew's just projecting his own anger onto you. Like maybe it's not you he's mad at, just the situation—what happened and how his life is different?"
Angela crunched on a chunk of ice that she'd spooned out of her daiquiri (which was a virgin, like her second had been). "Well, that's why I signed him up for a support group last week. It's for heart attack recoverees."
"Oh, that was a good idea," Reese said encouragingly.
"Yeah, but then he got this ludicrous idea in his head that the group was for 'old' people. Just because the meetings are held at the Twilight Pastures Retirement Village." Reese reserved comment. "I mean, where does he get this stuff?"
"Hmm."
Angela pushed her plate and glass forward. "Ugh, I feel sick."
"Me, too," Reese said, feeling a headache coming on, too, which threatened to ruin her buzz. "So he didn't end up going to the support group, then?"
"Oh, no, he went. He just sulked before and after, and probably during, for all I know."
Reese held her tongue because she didn't like giving unsolicited advice, especially to her sisters, who would definitely ask for advice if they wanted it. But it was difficult not to take a firmer hand with Angela, and insist that she be more confrontational with Drew. If they were ever truly going to fix things, they'd have to talk about what had happened.
Just then the waiter came over. "Anything else, ladies?" He smiled down at them in that flirty way young waiters always did to enhance their tips. It didn't even matter if they were good-looking or not; they still did it. Apparently they assumed that most women wanted to be flirted with. "Just the check," Angela said.
"Nooo problem," he said, and ripped the check off his pad. Angela already had her gold card out, so he took it and, before sauntering off, reflashed his smile.
Reese felt a little too fuzzy to smile back. Not to mention all the alcohol was starting to go south and settle in a pool of heat between her legs. Great, she was sitting in the middle of the Laughing Frog—with her sister, for Pete's sake—and she was suddenly feeling horny. That figured. Too much alcohol. Not enough sex. As close as she and Angela were, there was no way she would confess that bit of trivia.
"Reese?"
"I wonder if I'll ever have sex again," she blurted.
"What?" Angela said, letting out a laugh. "Where did that come from?"
"I don't know," Reese said. "Not that I've ever had really unbelievable sex or anything, but..." She expelled a sigh. "It's just been so long since I touched a man, I guess it's starting to get to me."
"What do you mean? What about that guy from your program, Kenneth?"
Reese scoffed. "Not even close."
"Really?" Angela sounded surprised. "Why not? What's wrong with him?"
"I don't know, nothing. It's... me." She sighed, feeling a little of the blueness creeping back. "I'm starting to realize that men just don't think of me like that."
Angela snorted. "Puh-lease, of course they do. You just don't put yourself out there."
"What's that got to do with it?"
"Well, if you've only got a few guys to base your experiences on, then you're not getting a very accurate reading. I mean, do you know how many duds I went out with before I met Drew?"
"So what are you saying?" Reese asked, slumping lower in her chair. "That I've got to date a string of losers before I find the right person?" Actually, that sounded pretty reasonable, and definitely true. That must have been why she hated hearing it.
"No,
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