Page 4 of 28 Dates

Loneliness?

Whatever it was, that same pesky sensation, that niggling feeling at the base of my neck, made a return appearance over the holidays, which I spent with Teagan and Corbin. They were just so darn cheerful.

Maybe I am missing something.

“Well, there’s a bonus,” I tease. “But you don’t need me for this. You have a handful of testers you can use for these kinds of projects, and those who tested PerfectMate. They’d jump at this chance.”

“Please, Caty-bug. At least try it out for my sake, let me know if there’s anything wonky with it or doesn’t work right.” He pouts and pulls his sad puppy dog face on me. The one he knows he can use to get me to do whatever he wants. Damn friends. “You’re my only hope.”

Great. Begging, a stupid nickname I hate and love in equal measure, and aStar Warsreference. The man knows all my weak spots.

“Thirty days?” Oh God. I’m doing this. I’m actually considering this.

“Thirty days.”

I take a hefty swallow of my cooling coffee and cringe, forcing down the chilled flavor. And because Trey would do anything for me, regardless of how crazy or stupid or life-defying, I finally say, “I’ll think about it.”

He throws his arms around me like me thinking about it is the same as me agreeing. In all honesty, it probably is, but I’ll still make the guy sweat out my decision for another twelve hours.

“Thank you, shrimp. You’re the best.”

I shove him away from me. Corbin and Trey have a knack for giving me ridiculous nicknames because I’m a full foot shorter than either of them. “Shut up, geek, and go take a shower. You smell.”

I walk away from Trey, catching him sniffing his armpit right before I leave the kitchen and head toward my bedroom.

I’ll deal with the favor I know I’ll do for him after a few more hours of sleep.

—

After I go back to bed and wake up again at a more reasonable hour, I spend hours shuffling through spreadsheets, cleaning up Trey’s expenses and collecting tax information for his accountant. Unable to focus on much else, I call it an early day and grab my pink wool coat and cream scarf and head out in search of lunch. I’m not at all surprised when I end up outside Dirty Martini’s, the bar Jonas now owns. Granted, I haven’t been here much in the last few months. Hard to return to your favorite place when your friends-with-benefits arrangement comes to an abrupt termination.

After six months, even that’s all water under the bridge. Mostly. I miss Jonas. And not just the way he knows how to play my body like I was made for him. I miss his laughter and his humor and how easy it was to fall not only into bed with him but into a friendship. Some days the pain of that last moment with him, standing in my doorway, braced to leave but hesitating, still haunts me. There’s still the moment I wish I could have said something, or run to him and throw my arms around him and tell him,Yes. Yes I want more, too.But even on the days when I imagine that scenario, I know deep down it’s not something I’m capable of. So while I miss him desperately, I still let him go so he can find his own happy, which I truly want for him.

It was still a huge shock to my system when I walked into Dirty’s for the first time after our FWB arrangement came to an end to find him leaning over the bar, kissing a cute little brunette on her cheek, and promising he’d be at her place later. She stood up to leave, and he followed her with his eyes until she walked past me on her way out the door. It was then that Jonas caught sight of me at the bar and froze for a brief moment before plastering a grin on his face I knew was forced. He’d then said hello, asked me what I wanted to drink, and eventually told me that the girl was Ashley, the one he’d said he was interested in the morning he left my place.

I plastered on a similar fake smile and forced myself to choke down the martini he handed me, taking my time so it didn’t look like I was in a hurry to get the hell out of his bar for the first time in years since I’d discovered it. And slowly, over time, it’s become easier to walk through the doors and resume a friendship with him.

That doesn’t mean I still don’t check to see if he’s at the bar before I enter. Today, since it’s well after lunchtime, the customers are sparse, and thankfully there isn’t anyone sitting at the tables lining the window where my face is pressed so close to the glass, fog forms on it.

At the bar to the right, there’s a bartender whom I know, and while there are a couple of men dressed in suits at one end, sipping on bottles of beer, it’s the woman across from Tucker who grabs my attention.

Ashley. Jonas’s girlfriend. I’d hate her if she weren’t so sweet and lovely.

After Trey’s proposition earlier, I’m in need of a drink to consider my options. For a second, I debate whether or not to enter. Maybe I should find a new favorite place altogether. Continually putting myself in front of Jonas, able to look but not touch, does weird things to my mental health.

Like, currently making Trey’s app seem like a better idea.

“Whatever,” I mutter to myself. The app ismaybenot the worst possible idea ever thrown my way. And this is my favorite place for lunch. With a burst of confidence, I tug open the front door, and as it closes behind me, I’m already unwrapping my scarf.

Even as strange as I’m feeling, I head straight toward Ashley. We’ve run into each other enough now, it’d be weird for everyone if I didn’t join her.

In the month she’s been with Jonas, I’ve never asked if she knows our history. It’s not important, nor is it my business. The benefits arrangement Jonas and I had ended the day he left my apartment, and we’ve now settled into a fairly decent, only sometimes awkward, routine. I show up, we laugh and joke and talk about politics, and I argue with him that nothing in the world beats a West Coast summer. He feeds me, fuels me with a variety of martinis, and then we wave goodbye. Really not too different than we used to be, except now I know those waves and winks we exchange will never again lead to his hands on me.

Which is a bummer in itself because while I’ve apparently accepted we are just friends…I haven’t been able to replace him either.

Perhaps taking a stab at Trey’s app will be a good thing, then. A chance to get back out there, like he suggested, and find a new fling or two even if that’s not the app’s purpose.

“Hey lady, what’s shakin’?” Ashley asks as I drape my coat over the barstool next to her and slide onto the seat.

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