Page 11 of The Spare

I’m sorry, what in the actual hell?

By five o’clock, my brain is fried, my patience is nonexistent, and my neck is locked in a tight knot of stress. Meeting up with Lilly, Georgia, and Claire is long overdue. It’s usually a treat to get to see my local girlfriends, but having Claire drive here from her home in Hurricane, North Carolina is a special occasion indeed.

Walking into Charred feels like stepping into a safe haven. This restaurant is the absolute best mix of a lively neighborhood bar and elevated, upscale dining. Entering the doors feels like walking into a place buzzing with newly discovered excitement, yet there’s still the warm, inviting atmosphere of a local favorite. The air inside smells incredible. There’s a rich blend of herbs and woodsmoke from their fire-baked pizzas that envelopes you the moment you walk in. It has my mouth watering.

I weave through the rustic-chic dining room toward the spacious, heated patio. The bar area is humming with conversation and laughter, full of locals enjoying cocktails, drafts, and curated wines. I momentarily wonder if Sutter Creek is on their menu before the unpleasant interaction with Sam Lee replays in my mind. I quickly shirk that question away. I’m not wasting another second on that heartless imbecile.

My face lights up at the sight of my dearest friends sitting at a corner booth under the Edison bulbs.

“Lexi!” Lilly is the first to spot me, jumping up to pull me into a warm embrace. This sweet young blonde is a bit of an introvert. She’s the quiet youngest daughter of a prominent billionaire surgeon at St. Luke’s.

Lilly had spent her whole life wanting to follow in Dr. Weston’s footsteps and enter medicine, only to discover when volunteering that she faints at the barest hint of blood. Now, she manages her father’s massive charitable foundation, though she fears she isn’t actually accomplishing anything successful on her own. Worried she’s merely spending her dad’s money like her wildly flamboyant sister, Lauren. She’s constantly searching for a real sense of purpose, but Lilly’s heart is pure gold.

“You must be exhausted,” Lilly says sympathetically, scooting over to make room for me on the soft, tufted bench.

“I survived a day of chauvinistic doctors and men yelling at me about their ED meds as if I’m the reason for their little dick energy,” I groan, sinking into the cushions and dropping my bag onto the seat beside me.

“Oh, honey, you need a drink stat,” Claire says, leaning across the table with her hand extended in the air, attempting to flag down a server as if she’s landing a plane. Claire, who is closer to my age than Lilly and Georgia, is our Swiftie book club leader and resident ballbuster. Her personality is as fiery as her hair color. Her green eyes sparkle with accomplishment after landing a waiter. “I’m prescribing a fire-baked pizza, a plate of those Nashville hot chicken sliders, and whatever signature cocktail has the highest proof.”

“Seconded,” agrees Georgia, the other redhead in our little group. Where Claire is brassy, Georgia is more of the strawberry blonde girl next door vibe. Georgia is a year older than Lilly. I think they lost touch after high school until they reconnected working at St. Luke’s. She works part-time as an ER registration attendant around her college classes. From what she’s shared, she’s feeling guilty that her family is putting her through nursing school when she secretly wants to open her own pie shop.

While not ready to bail on nursing classes just yet, Georgia has made no bones about the fact she wants to leave her current gig at the hospital and look for a job in a bakery. However, she’s been in love with her brother’s best friend, Zach, for years. And now that he’s doing his residency in the ER, she can’t seem to tear herself away.

Georgia slides the cocktail menu toward me. “Tonight is not about rude, disrespectful men with little peckers. Tonight is about Tay-Tay inspired girl power, unrealistic romance books, and saving our sanity.”

“Cheers to that,” Claire chimes in, lifting her glass.

I look around the table at my girls, feeling the icy tension in my shoulders finally begin to melt away. “Deal.” I giggle, lifting my water glass in solidarity.

“How’s Lauren doing, Lilly?” I ask.

“As loud and obnoxious as ever.” She rolls her eyes. “Nothing ever seems to get her down. Wish I could live life like a leaf blowing in the wind, bouncing from one designer handbag shop to another.”

I cover her hand with mine. “Nah, you’re meant for so much more, babe. Think of all the people you’re helping by fundraising the way you are. I think it’s incredible.”

“Besides, your sister wouldn’t have anywhere to wear all of her couture gowns if you didn’t organize these galas. You’re giving her purpose.” Claire snorts before taking a sip of her martini. “My purpose, on the other hand, is to locate a sexy one-night stand before Momma has to return to her small-town ranch in the middle of nowhere tomorrow.” She starts to take another sip before her face takes on a serious expression. “One without the little dick energy.”

The three of us laugh. This beauty will have no problem doing just that.

“I love little Hux, but Momma has needs too. Like see that tall drink of water over there?” Claire nods toward the dark-haired man by the bar who seems well over six feet tall. He’s definitely her type. Square jaw, neatly trimmed five o’clock shadow, and broad shoulders that taper down to a narrow waist. He’s muscular without being overly so. Okay, so he might be everyone’s type.

“I’ll do anything he says… if he says it with his hands.” Claire takes another nonchalant sip of her cocktail.

Georgia nearly spits out her drink, chuckling at the “Treacherous” reference.

“Don’t laugh,” Claire scolds. “You three should all throw caution to the wind for a night.” She glances over the rim of her martini, her eyes ping ponging between the three of us. “I mean, I’m just saying, nothing safe is worth the drive.” Her shoulders bounce and there’s a mischievous glint in her emerald-green eyes.

“Oh my god.” Lilly cackles. “You’re on full Red mode tonight. And here I was waiting for you to drop a ‘he looks like bad news, so I’ve got to have him’ reference.”

Claire snorts. “Oh, that’s too easy. That goes without saying.”

We continue to laugh at Claire’s antics as she evaluates her prospects for the evening. I’m jealous of her laissez-faire attitude toward a night of no-strings fun. Yet as much as I wish I could do the same, I’m simply not built that way.

As Lilly orders a round of shareable small plates, I lean back against the booth, letting their warm banter wash over me. The disaster of my workday and the lingering memory of infuriating Samuel Lee at the bar last week finally start to fade into the background.

Here, surrounded by women who actually get it, I can finally let my hair down and breathe. Forget about the dreams of yesteryear and focus on the present.

Chapter Six