It doesn’t matter. What matters is I don’t think those two are over yet . . .
What? She’s pretty sure they are.
I have a hunch. Let me think on it.
Mimi . . . don’t meddle.
Have you met me?
Text from Simon to Caroline
Just sent you a picture, did you get it?
Mmm, should I close the door to my office?
No no, not like that, but I like the way you’re thinking. Did you get it yet?
I did, I wish I was there. The beach looks amazing. How are things in Bora Bora?
Amazing. But it’d be better if you were here. Still can’t believe you turned down a trip here . . .
You’d believe it if you saw my desk right now. I’m literally swimming in paperwork.
I’m literally swimming in the ocean. Or I was a few minutes ago
Honestly Simon, sometimes . . .
Sorry, babe. Just wish you were here.
Me too. I gotta go; my inbox just exploded.
Text from Simon to Neil:
So you talked to her.
Dude . . .
That bad?
Dude!
Sorry, man . . .
Text from Mimi to Caroline:
So I’m thinking we should have a game night—you know, play Pictionary and stuff like that?
I’d love to, but I’m slammed. When were you thinking?
Maybe the Saturday night before Thanksgiving? Can you spare a few hours over the weekend?
I can spare a few hours, yes, that’s about it. You guys wanna come out to Sausalito? Be nice not to have to go back into the city.
We can do that. I was thinking we should invite Sophia.
Of course we should.
And Neil.
Oh boy.
Trust me.
There’s an entire wall of windows in Jillian’s house, Mimi. The last thing I need is someone throwing things.
Trust me.
Think Barry Derry sells party insurance?
Text from Mimi to Sophia:
Hey girl! Game night next Saturday, you in?
No.
What?
No. I’ve already peeped your game, you’re inviting Neil, aren’t you?
Yes.
No.
We’ll see.
I’m not coming if he is.
We’ll see.
Text from Ryan to Neil:
Game night? Next Saturday?
Cool! I smoked your ass last time at Pictionary.
Sophia’s invited.
Not cool, dude. I’m not going if she’s going.
Pussy—that’s exactly what she said.
She said she wouldn’t come if I came?
Isn’t that what you just said?
I’m totally coming. Can I bring someone?
Is that wise?
Who says wise? I’m bringing someone.
Text from Mimi to Sophia:
So . . .
No.
Come on! Neil said he wasn’t coming—
Good! I’ll come.
—if you were coming
What? What a baby; he can’t handle it if I’m there?
Well, he’s handling it, he’s coming. And he’s bringing someone.
Well I’m bringing someone too.
I thought you weren’t coming.
Shut up. What time?
? ? ?
It was late. I was once again at the office, alone. It was almost midnight, and the shitty part was Simon had just gotten home from Bora Bora this morning. In a previous life, when I wasn’t responsible for someone else’s design firm, I’d have taken a long lunch break to go home, see him, have a nooner, and then head back to work. But not anymore.
Now it was almost 11:00 p.m., and I was putting the finishing touches on my first payroll report, since the accountant wasn’t able to pull all the hours he needed from his computer at home. Which is where he was. Which is where most people were.
I felt like I was finally getting on top of everything workwise; turns out you can get everything done when you work twelve-hour days. And weekends. With Simon away on a job, I could do it. I ate, slept, and peed Jillian Designs. But it was worth it; I was getting a taste of what it would be like to run my own business someday. Jillian had been an amazing mentor to me, she still was, and I wanted to do a great job for her. Could I have asked her for a little more help? Maybe, but I wanted her to enjoy herself. So I barely managed to keep my head above water.
My phone rang just as I clicked send on payroll. Yawning, I answered. “I promise I’m leaving.”
“You said that an hour ago.”
“But this time I really am. Can you hear that? Those are my shoes, walking down the hallway. And hear that? That’s me getting out my keys to lock the door.”
“I don’t like the idea of you being out so late at night all alone.”
“Babe, I am capable of handling myself. Besides, how do you think I get home most nights?”
“I still can’t believe you wouldn’t let me come pick you up. What if some weirdo is out tonight, and likes the way you look in your red heels?”
“Well then, that weirdo’s gonna get an ass full of red heels if he tries anything— Wait, how did you know I’m wearing red heels?” I asked, whirling around.
Parked just a few feet from the front door was Simon’s car.
“What are you doing here?”