I could. That part was easy, of course. But if it was an obvious bluff, why was my stomach all twisted in knots? And where the hell did this lump in my throat suddenly come from?
Weasel out backwards? Or call their hand?
For once, I didn’t know what to do.
They are bluffing… right?
In a snap decision I grabbed the phone. My fingers moved faster than my brain could even think.
Fine. Friday night, Eight o’clock.
And there had better be wine.
The phone suddenly seemed foreign to me. Like it wasn’t mine. Like it had a life of its own, and had typed the message all by itself.
It was Nathan who wrote back t
his time. Apparently he was monitoring the conversation also:
LOL, you already know what
we have here. You buy our wine.
That part made me smile. He had somewhat of a point. I hammered out one final message, then tossed the phone to the other side of the couch:
I’m talking about good wine.