Then I looked at the waiter and said, “Can you split the check please?”
The whole table went quiet so fast it honestly startled him.
Jenna laughed first because she thought I was kidding.
“Oh stop,” she said, still smiling. “You know we always just—”
“No,” I said calmly. “You always just order whatever you want and wait for somebody else to pay for it.”
Her husband immediately sat up straighter. “Wow.”
I finally opened the check folder and slid it across the table toward the middle.
“Your cocktails are highlighted,” I said. “There were four.”
Nobody laughed this time.
Jenna kept smiling but it looked painful now, like she was trying to hold her face in place.
“Oh my God, Claire, it’s a birthday dinner.”
“And every dinner before this too.”
The waiter was still standing there holding the machine awkwardly against his chest like he wanted to disappear through the floor.
Then Jenna rolled her eyes. “You really picked tonight to get cheap?”
That irritated me more than the bill honestly.
Because people like Jenna always act shocked the first time the person they use stops cooperating.
So I just looked at her and said, “No. I picked tonight to stop being predictable.”
Her husband quietly reached for his wallet after that.
Not confidently either.
Annoyed.
Like he knew the free ride was actually over this time.
And the worst part for Jenna was everybody at the table suddenly realizing they’d all noticed the pattern for years.
They’d just been happy it wasn’t their card getting handed the check.
Dinner ended weirdly fast after that.
And three days later Jenna texted the family group chat suggesting “every couple just pay separately from now on to avoid awkwardness.”
Which was apparently a brilliant idea once it was hers.