Heart-Shaped Hack

“Maybe there’s something wrong with you.”


She shook her head. “There’s nothing wrong with me.”

“There could be. Tell me about your most recent lover.”

“Stuart was more than my lover. We broke up six months ago after dating for five years.”

“Why, did you sleep with someone else?”

“What? No.”

“Did he?”

“Nobody slept with anyone else! We grew apart and weren’t the same people at the end of five years that we were when we started dating.”

“Was Stuart a nice guy?”

“He was a great guy. He’s still a great guy.”

“If he was that great, you’d still be with him.”

“I loved Stuart for a long time.”

“But?”

“When it comes to men, you either break up with them or you marry them.”

“Stuart asked you to marry him?”

“Yes. And I said no.” And she’d unintentionally stomped all over his heart in the process.

“Why?” Ian asked.

The wine had already loosened her up a little, and she answered honestly. “Because after five years there was nothing about him that surprised me.” Stuart was like a puzzle with a limited number of pieces; all he really needed to be happy was Kate, his PlayStation, beer, a hot meal, and sex. Kate needed more.

“Ah, now we’re getting somewhere. So you want a nice guy, but you don’t want him to be boring.”

“Yes. Nice and not boring and not into threesomes and no cocaine. I mean, is that too much to ask?”

“No, although I feel compelled to point out that the threesome thing is pretty universal.”

“Oh for God’s sake,” she muttered.

“That doesn’t mean we’re all going to try to convince you to participate in one. It’s just that very few guys would be like, ‘Go away, extra girl,’ should one happen to climb into our bed when you’re already in it. That’s all I’m saying.”

Kate had finished her first glass of wine, and the waiter arrived with her second. Ian handed it to her and held up his bourbon. “Cheers to weeding out the assholes, Katie.”

Kate clinked her glass with his and said, “Cheers.”



An hour later, after sharing an order of crab cakes and beer-battered fish and chips, which Ian insisted on because “that dick Kent would probably have made you order a salad,” Kate leaned back in her chair and sighed.

“Feeling better?”

“More relaxed anyway,” she said. “Probably because I’m stuffed full of fried food and this is my third glass of wine.”

“In case you were wondering, I’m having a great time.”

“Let me guess. This is all part of your ‘let’s be friends’ campaign.”

“That depends. Is it working?”

Kate tried to suppress a smile.

“I saw that, Katie. I told you, I miss nothing.”

After they finished their drinks, Ian insisted on paying the tab. “I’ll walk you home,” he said. Dried leaves crunched under their feet, and Kate breathed in the smell of wood smoke coming from a nearby chimney.

“This is my street,” she said a few blocks later. “I’m in the tall brick building.”

“I know.”

“How do you know where I live?” Kate asked.

He looked at her incredulously. “You can’t be serious.” He followed her up the short sidewalk to the front steps, and she sat down when they reached the top.

“You’re not going to invite me in?”

“You can’t be serious,” she said, throwing his words back at him. The chill of the cold concrete seeped through her jeans almost immediately.

Ian sat down beside her. “Wow, these steps are really hard and cold.”

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