I stare at her fingers, which have begun to tap an anxious beat against the tabletop. “Are you having cellular separation anxiety?”
“It’ll pass.” She swallows a sip of her margarita. “So, Knox finally showed up, huh?”
Lila always calls him Knox. In fact, pretty much everyone on the planet calls him Knox. Except me. To me, he’s always been Nate. Always will be.
I nod. “Yes, but not for any of the reasons I wanted him to. For instance, to declare his undying love for me. Or to dust that really hard-to-reach area above my stove. Oh! Or to move my fridge, so I could clean behind it.” I narrow my eyes. “Come to think of it, I don’t need a relationship at all. I just need a tall man to occasionally lift large objects and help with housework.”
“Men don’t help with housework. Men say they’ll help with housework in exchange for sex, but then the stairs end up half-vacuumed and there’s hand soap in the dishwasher and all the windows have paper towel streaks, and you end up having to do it all yourself anyway. Then, after giving him the sex he did not earn, you get to spend the rest of your married lives listening to him throw that one day he vacuumed in your face every time you accuse him of not pulling his weight.”
My eyebrows lift in amused speculation. Lila’s never been in a relationship in her life.
“Um…” She shrugs, slightly embarrassed by her rant. “That’s what my sisters say, anyway.”
“Right.” I fight a laugh. “Well, Nate didn’t do any of my housework. Nor did he show up outside my door like that guy in Love Actually with a sign that says, ‘To me, you are perfect.’ Nor did he apologize or even pretend to be civil as he barked orders after ten years of selective mutism.”
“I’m guessing he didn’t pop your cherry, either,” Lila announces loudly, drawing glances from several men at the surrounding tables.
“Could you say that any louder? I don’t think the bartender on the lower level heard you. Oh! Maybe I could find you a bullhorn so you can broadcast it to the entire bar…”
She rolls her eyes. “It’s nothing to be embarrassed about. And if it’s really such an issue, there are plenty of men who’d be more than happy to take care of that little problem for you.”
“You mean Steve, the guy who watches Boo and waters my plants when I go away for the weekend?” My nose wrinkles. “He smells like tea tree oil and I think he still lives with his mom.”
I grimace at the thought and take a large sip of my drink.
“No.” She leans in, eyes alight with mischievous thoughts. “I mean Duncan.”
I nearly snort alcohol through my nose. “Your brother?” I choke, trying to catch a breath.
“Maybe.” A coy smile twists Lila’s lips. “He’s asked about you, the last few times we’ve done lunch. And now that he’s moved back from California…”
“I haven’t seen him since he puked in my purse after the Sadie Hawkins dance.”
Her eyes narrow defensively. “Well, he’s grown up. He runs his own company — some kind of social media startup. He’s very successful.”
I force myself not to scoff. Every rich kid with a trust fund has a startup, these days, just for the thrill of calling themselves CEO. Whether they actually do any work in that position… Debatable.
“That’s great,” I say, hoping the words don’t sound as lackluster as they feel coming out of my mouth.
“You could do a lot worse, Phoebe. Duncan is wealthy, nice, good-looking, and — unlike that other asshole you’ve set your heart on — he’s interested. If you give him a chance, I know you two will hit it off.”
I try not to twitch. Lila has always harbored a cliché fantasy that one day her best friend and her brother will get married, and we’ll all live happily ever after in adjacent mansions on Nantucket with a brood of children.
Let’s just say… it’s a dream I’ve never shared.
In fact… let’s also say I’d rather wear perfume scented like the Boston Bruin’s hockey locker room for a straight week than go out on another date with Duncan.