“But why did he do it?” Fiona asked, drawing my attention back to her. “Do you think he was ashamed of how he looked? Or do you think he used someone else’s picture?”
Alex crossed to his wife, but instead of sitting next to her, he bent and whispered something into her ear, his fingers fiddling with a strand of her hair, then stroked her neck. She nodded and winked at him as he leaned away. He straightened and left the room, strolling into the kitchen without speaking to anyone else.
Alex Greene, gorgeous and genius hacker, was an unending mystery. He wasn’t sullen, though he was distrustful and remarkably socially awkward. At first, his silent, withdrawn ways took some getting used to. As a group, we’d warmed to him as a lurking figure in the background. We’d even embraced it, mostly because he always wore whatever we knit him and seemed genuinely surprised and grateful for every nice thing sent his way. I made him cookies once and he gave me a hug that lasted for what felt like a full minute. He’d even thanked me for them several months later.
Having Alex around made us all feel like we had a little brother to spoil. A tall, dark, handsome brooding little brother. Admittedly, the dynamic was unusual, but I think that’s what made it remarkable.
“That’s the thing.” I shrugged, sitting back in my seat. “The guy was attractive. Very attractive.” In an efficient, nerdy but fit way. “He just didn’t look anything like his picture. Maybe it was someone else in the picture.”
“So weird.” Kat wrinkled her nose. “Why are men so weird?”
“We have to be weird,” Greg cut in, settling on the couch next to his wife and tucking her under his arm. “Because if you knew how simple we were, you’d figure out a way to procreate and find satisfaction without us.” He held his hands up before any of us could contradict. “Wait. Now, I know what you’re going to say, that you already find satisfaction without us. You don’t need another person in order to be happy. Sure. Okay. Just like men don’t need a woman in order to be happy . . . except, people need people. Being alone might yield satisfaction, but it’s not what we all really want.”
Finding true fulfillment for myself without men, without a romantic relationship . . . now that sounded like a worthwhile endeavor.
My attention lingered on Fiona and Greg as he placed a soft kiss on her temple and nuzzled her hair with his nose. He whispered something to her and she smiled, her hand reaching for his where it rested on her shoulder, their fingers tangling together.
They were such a unit.
My heart twisted uncomfortably and I recognized the root emotion: envy.
“Of note, it’s already possible for women to procreate without men.” Janie, still looking perturbed, rubbed the base of her spine and glared at Greg. “Through a process called somatic cell nuclear transfer. You can take cells from a woman and—”
“I don’t want to know.” Greg shook his head adamantly. “Let me live in my delusions of being essential. Can’t you see my male ego is as fragile as it is beautiful? And speaking of fragile male egos, where is Nicoletta?”
Elizabeth smirked, turning her work in progress and leaning forward to grab her drink. “He’s in Los Angeles filming until the end of the month, but I’ll let him know you’re missing him.”
Nico—or Nicoletta as we’d started calling him—was Elizabeth’s husband. He also happened to be a movie star and comedian. When he was in town he was a regular fixture at knit night, except he crocheted.
“I’m not missing him. Not precisely.” Greg shrugged. “It’s just that he’s a good running partner.”
“What about Alex?” I asked, “Why don’t you ask him?”
“I did. He says he doesn’t like to run unless it’s from law enforcement. Plus, swimming is his exercise of choice.” Greg made a face.
“You could go with Quinn.” Janie’s eyes moved to the side thoughtfully. “Except he likes to run early in the morning.”
“Yes, I know. I’m familiar with Captain Never Sleeps,” Greg mumbled, referring to one of his nicknames for Quinn.
“I thought you and Matt were running this evening?” Fiona asked softly.
“We were,” he sighed, and it sounded aggrieved. “Or, we are. But he’s late, some work business. Should be here any minute.”
“Who’s Matt?” Elizabeth asked distractedly, her eyes on the knitting pattern to her left.
“Our next-door neighbor.” Fiona lifted her chin toward the far wall, presumably to where this Matt person lived. “He’s a professor at the university, in computer science, I think.”
“Fiona has seen his penis,” Greg added cheerfully.
Wait, what?
I could almost hear everyone’s eyebrows raise in unison as our collective attention shifted to Fiona.
“Really? Do tell.” Of course, Sandra was the first to recover from Greg’s odd declaration.
Fiona gave her husband an exasperated look, then sought to explain. “I used to babysit him when we were kids, back in Baltimore. Our parents know each other. He moved out here last Christmas and by chance we ended up neighbors.”
“He also has a TIG welder.” Greg glanced at his watch.
“Oh, good.” Janie twisted to one side and then the other, stretching. “I’ve been looking for someone with one of those.”
“Of course you have.” Elizabeth gave Janie a bewildered but amused look. “Why do you need a TIG welder?”
“I don’t need it now, but it’s always good to know someone who can weld. Just in case.” Janie, sitting on the arm of the couch, picked up and fiddled with her work in progress. She crocheted rather than knit and was currently working on a baby blanket.
“I agree with Janie,” Ashley’s voice sounded from the laptop speaker. “It’s good to surround yourself with professionals or hobbyists of varying skillsets, at least that’s what my brother Cletus always says.”
“You know what I could go for? A professional hand-holder.” Kat spoke to the green ball of yarn on the coffee table. “I love holding hands, there’s nothing like it. I’d pay money for someone to hold hands with me.”
“I’ll hold hands with you!” Elizabeth smiled at Kat. “Anytime.”
Kat gave Elizabeth a warm smile. “Thanks. I might take you up on that.”
“I think those people exist,” Sandra said, completing her row and glancing at Kat. “They charge hourly.”
“What are you talking about?” Elizabeth chuckled, shaking her head.
“Very funny, Sandra.” Fiona gave Sandra a patient smile.
“It’s true,” Sandra defended, her eyes wide. “They’re called professional cuddlers. We have them here, in Chicago. They’ll come to your apartment, or sometimes you meet in a studio with a bunch of other cuddlers, or even a hotel.”
I wrinkled my nose, swapping a disbelieving stare with Kat.
But then Janie said, “She’s right. It’s a real thing. Check out cuddlebuddies.com. And there’s a book called The Cuddle Sutra.”
“You’re making this up.” Kat’s eyes bounced between Janie and Sandra.