You Had Me at Merlot [ Chaennie ]

Chapter 23: Confronting the Nightmare

Honesty was a tricky thing. Jennie didn't regret her confession to Roseanne because no truer words had ever been spoken, no sentence more from her heart. But she did regret her timing. She'd put Roseanne in a difficult position, and the anguish on her face after the kiss they'd shared had been seared into Jennie's mind for all time. She'd put that look there. She was the responsible party, and she hated herself for it.

She went about her week like an automaton programmed to go through the motions, bringing coffee and wine to the masses with a plastic smile and a hollow existence. Customers came and went. Her regulars at the Chelsea bar joked and laughed as always. She stayed on the periphery, missing Roseanne, wondering how she was, where she was, what she was thinking.

"Hi, I'll take a shapely mocha, please. Medium sized."

"I'll be happy to get that for you. Can you tell me what you'd like us to do to make it shapely?"

"It's shaming to call a drink skinny just because it has low-fat milk or sugar-free sweetener, so I'd like a shapely drink with full fat and maximum sweetener."

Jennie blinked. That was certainly a new one, but she could comply. "A shapely medium mocha is on the way."

This was normally the kind of noteworthy interaction Jennie would text to Roseanne. They'd go back and forth dissecting the woman's angle, appreciating her take, and laughing about the uniqueness of the exchange. But none of the texts she'd sent to Roseanne these days had come back. She'd send this story anyway. Wherever she was, maybe she'd appreciate the new term.

"You know you've been a mopester for a couple of months now," Marjorie said. "Is it the workload that has you down? It's gotta be a lot, overseeing both stores."

"It's not the workload," Leo said and gave his head a shake. That guy was too intuitive.

"Is it the weather? I wish it would warm up," Nate said and slid farther beneath his cardigan. "I'm convinced cold weather brings out serial killers."

"That might be the weirdest thing you've ever said," Clarissa told him. "Now I'm wondering if you're a serial killer."

"I'm a day trader," he corrected.

"Prove the difference." She sent him a hyperbolic gaze of suspicion.

Jennie held up a hand. "I'm clearly not the only moody one around here. If you must know, I'm just going through some things. It'll pass."

Genevieve closed her laptop and folded her arms. "We haven't seen Roseanne in a long time, and Nate's checked out both stores."

"Don't tell her about my missions," Nate said, tossing up an exasperated hand.

Jennie turned to him. "Are you spying on me, Nate?"

"Just taking one for the team." He looked over at them for backup. "We were worried."

Clarissa hadn't said much. She knew the story and gave Jennie's hand a squeeze in solidarity, having told her—from the night it had all happened and she'd come over to comfort Jennie on the couch—that she'd done the right thing. "It's never wrong to be honest about your feelings," she'd said as Jennie had cried on her literal shoulder.

"I'm not sure Roseanne would agree."

"She was caught off guard. Give her time."

She had, wanting more than anything to just put things back how they had been. She'd accept a friendship, would support Roseanne's marriage, and would bury her feelings until she found a way to resolve them. She could do all of that if it would bring Roseanne back into her life.

"Listen, all of you," Jennie said, addressing the regulars. "I don't want you to worry about me. I'm doing just fine, and from what I can tell, Roseanne is on vacation. Her office email has an autoreply that says as much." She shrugged. "She'll be back, right?"

"She will," Genevieve said with such force it was startling. "I guarantee it. She would be a fool not to, Jennie."

"And we know she's not that," Clarissa offered. She stood. "It's the first day of our big clearance sale at the store, and my mother will be on edge all day. I better get over there."

"Oh, save me one of those turquoise scarves for my mom's birthday."

"Half-off today." Clarissa kissed Jennie's cheek and waved to the regulars. She'd check in on Jennie diligently throughout the day via text, good friend that she was.

As for Jennie, she would limp along through the rest of her day, go home, and try to find a little joy in a good book or a rerun of Modern Family, until it was time to get up and do the whole thing over again. Meanwhile, she watched the clock, wondering when, if ever, Roseanne would return.

*