a drink right away, and he even gets one of Chloe’s tri-citrus bars for us to split.
“It’s orange, lemon, and grapefruit,” I say, pointing to the bar with my fork. “Chloe wanted to mix up the traditional lemon bar.”
Carter smiles. “It’s great. You guys seem like you’re really good friends.”
“Best friends,” I say, beaming. “What are your friends like?”
He winces. “Working so much and having a kid doesn’t leave a lot of time for friendships, you know? It sucks, but most of them have fallen by the wayside.”
He takes another bite. “That probably makes me seem like an asocial loser, right?”
I shake my head and swallow. “Not at all. Lots of men have a hard time maintaining friendships. I mean, that’s the entire point of the movie I Love You, Man.”
Carter smiles. “Well, that and showcasing Paul Rudd’s agelessness.”
I exhale in relief. He knows rom-coms. Well, one rom-com. One extremely accessible, dude-oriented rom-com, but still, I’ll take it.
“So,” I say, wiping my mouth with a napkin. “What do you do on the rare occasion that you’re not working?”
Carter shrugs. “Nothing all that exciting. My son is absurdly interested in monster trucks, something I never in my life imagined I’d have to know about, so we spend a lot of time going to rallies . . .”
I smile, imagining this rugged, attentive man taking a small child to a monster truck rally. It’s sweet.
“And I always love to get up to the lake. We have a place up there—well, I don’t want to mislead you. It’s not a beach house so much as it’s a small houseboat.”
My mouth goes dry, and I quickly take a drink of my coffee. “A small . . . what?”
“A houseboat?” He looks at me as if it’s possible I’ve never heard of the concept. “You know . . . a house on a boat? Like the movie Houseboat? Sort of like an RV on the water?”
“No, I’m familiar,” I say, perhaps too loudly. “Could you hold on a second? I’m going to get a second coffee.”
My coffee is still halfway full, but I book it to the counter all the same. “Chloe!” I hiss.
She closes the baked-goods case and gives me a concerned look. “What’s happening? Is this a repeat Barry situation? Do I need to fake an emergency call or something?”
“Carter. Has. A. Houseboat,” I whisper, leaning over the counter.
Chloe walks closer to me and leans forward so our heads are practically touching. “What?”
“A houseboat.”
Chloe shuts her eyes and sighs. “Oh no.”
Someone clears their throat behind me. “I thought I’d find you here.”
Chloe and I look toward the sound of that voice, and I stand up straight in disbelief.
“Barry?” I ask. “Why . . . what . . . how . . .”
“Why are you here, dude?” Chloe asks, leaning on one arm on the counter.
“We’ve gotta stop playing this game,” Barry says, gesturing between him and me. “You and me, Annie.”
I blink a few times. “I was unaware we were playing a game.”
He tilts his head and gives me a smile, like this is another part of our so-called game. “You know. You acting like there’s no connection between us? Like we’re not meant to be?”
I look at Chloe for help, but she’s staring at Barry with her mouth open.
“Barry,” I say, looking right into his eyes. “I want to be as gentle but as firm as possible: I can say with complete certainty that we’re not meant to be.”
“You don’t really think that,” he says, leaning forward to grab my hands, which I instantly pull back.
“We just . . . have a lot of differences,” I say. “I love coffee. And water with fluoride in it. And . . . not eating bagels out of the dumpster.”
“I don’t even have to keep eating the dumpster bagels!” he says, his voice growing loud enough that several people, including Carter, look over. Carter gives me a look that manages to instantly communicate, “Uh, do I need to come over there?” but I shake my head.
“It’s more than dumpster bagels,” I say. “We just don’t have a connection, and that’s okay. I know there’s someone out there for you, someone who likes you the way you are.”
Barry sighs, then turns to Chloe. “Are you free—”
“No,” Chloe says, wiping off the counter without looking at him.
“Well then,” Barry says, giving me a resigned look. “You can’t say I didn’t try.”
“I certainly can’t,” I say with a small smile. “Good luck, Barry.”