Sophia glanced over and spotted me at the bar, and shortly thereafter, she excused herself and headed my way.

“Having fun?” I asked as she perched on the stool next to me.

“I’m having a great time,” she mused. She then told the bartender exactly how to make her cocktail.

“How’s Neil tonight?”

Her eyes lit up briefly, and then she seemed to catch herself.

“Neil? Good, I guess. Ryan looks great, doesn’t he?” she covered, gesturing over to where we’d left our group, and where Mimi and Ryan were still deep in conversation. Ryan did indeed look good in jeans and a shirt that exactly matched his icy blue eyes—the eyes fixed delightedly on Ms. Mimi.

How could they not see it?

“Neil looks pretty good tonight too,” I tossed out, refocusing on the brawny sportscaster. Charcoal sweater, chinos—he was every inch the man about town.

“Yep,” she said icily, licking a bit of salt from the rim on her glass.

I giggled and placed a hand on her arm.

“Come on, pretty girl, let’s get you back to your perfect man,” I said, and we rejoined the group.

I departed a little before my friends did, tired but happy. Once again I’d spent an evening alone and lived to tell the tale. I wondered if other single women understood the delight that came from fifth-wheeling it. To not have to make small talk with some guy you’d been set up with, to not have to worry about some idiot with peppercorn-encrusted-filet breath trying to force his wiggly tongue down the back of your throat, and to not have to explain to that same idiot why you insist on taking a cab home when his super-fast Camaro is parked right over there.

I’d enjoyed—or should I say mostly enjoyed—an assortment of relationships since high school, but hadn’t really been in love for a long time. Not since senior year of college. And since that fell apart, I’d had just a series of casual flings, never really feeling fully invested in anyone. Hence my current hiatus from dating. Getting all the parts to line up seemed more and more difficult for me as I got older, and the process could be exhausting. Lower Caroline might be on board, but Brain and Heart always seemed to have reservations. Plus, now that my O was also absent, for who knew how long, I was finding my solitary lifestyle more and more appealing.

As I mused over these thoughts, headed home in a cab, my phone beeped. I had a text from a number I didn’t recognize.

Have a good time tonight?

Who the hell is texting me?

Who the hell is texting me?

As I waited for the reply, I leaned down and slipped off my shoes. Fantastic heels, but damn, they hurt my feet. My phone beeped again, and I read.

Some people call me Wallbanger.

I hated myself a little for the way my now-naked toes curled. Stupid toes.

Wallbanger, huh?

Wait a minute - how did you get my number?

I knew it was either Mimi or Sophia. Damn girls. They were really pushing it lately.

I can’t reveal my sources.

So, did you have a good time tonight?

Okay, I can play this game.

In fact I did. On my way home now.

How is the Emerald Isle? Lonely yet?

It’s beautiful actually, just having breakfast.

And I am never lonely.

I believe that. Did you buy my sweater?

Working on it, want to get just the right one.

Yes, please give me a good one.

Not going to respond to that one…how’s that pu**y of yours?

Really not going to respond to that one.

Is there something you wanted?

This not responding thing is getting harder…

I know what you mean. It’s hard not to touch that one.

Okay, officially ending this round.

The innuendos are too thick to see straight.

Oh, I don’t know, it’s better when it’s thick…

Wow. I’m enjoying this truce more than I expected.

I have to admit it’s good for me too.

Are you home yet?

Yep, just pulled up in front of our building.

Okay, I’ll wait until you’re inside.

Bet you can’t wait to get inside.

You’re a demon, you know that?

I have been told. Okay, inside. Just kicked your door, btw.

Thanks.

Just being a good neighbor.

Goodnight, Caroline.

Good morning, Simon.

I laughed as I turned the key in my lock and went inside. I sank into my couch, still laughing. Clive quickly jumped into my lap, and I petted his silky fur as he purred his welcome home. My phone beeped once more.

Did you really kick my door?

Shut up. Go eat your breakfast.

I laughed again as I silenced my phone for the night and lay back onto the couch. Clive perched on my chest as I relaxed for a bit, thoughts of that damn wallbanger in my head. It was shocking how clearly I could picture him: soft faded jeans, hiking boots a la Jake Ryan from Sixteen Candles, off-white Irish cable knit turtleneck sweater, hair all in disarray. Standing on a rocky coast somewhere, ocean in the background. A little tan, slightly weathered, hands in pockets. And that grin…

Chapter Nine

TEXT BETWEEN CAROLINE AND SIMON:

You had a package delivered.

I signed for it and it’s at my place.

Thanks. I’ll pick it up when I’m back. How are you?

Good, just working. How are the Irish?

Lucky. How’s that insane cat?

Lucky. I caught him trying to climb the walls.

He’s still looking for Purina. Misses her.

I don’t think a romance is in the cards for those two.

Probably not…he won’t be over it anytime soon tho.

Might have to bump up his catnip ration.

Don’t overmedicate.

No one likes a pu**y that can’t hold a conversation.

I’m actually a little scared of you.

LOL. Don’t be scared. Wait until I offer you candy for that.

If I catch you in a trench coat I’m running the other way!

When are you coming home btw?

Missing me a little?

No, I wanted to re-hang some pictures on the wall behind my headboard and I’m wondering how much time I have.

Be home in 2 weeks. If you can wait that long,

I’ll help you. It’s the least I can do.

The very least, and I’ll wait. You provide the hammer,

I’ll provide the cocktails.

Curious about my hammer, are you?

Going across the hall right now to kick your door.

Text between Mimi and Caroline:

Girl, guess what? Sophia’s grandparents’ house is available next month. We’re on our way to Tahoe, baby!

Sweet! That’ll be nice.

I’ve been dying to get away with my girls.