Because that is how future crazy cat ladies like me roll.
Now I’m standing inside a walk-in flower cooler with my face pressed against the interior glass, in an attempt to press down the puffy bags under my eyes.
I can see by the reaction of people walking into the shop that this is not the sight they were expecting.
With a heavy heart, I step out of the cooler and try to be as professional as I can, helping an excited young woman pick out wedding flowers. I do a decent job with the girl, considering I’ll never (cue the cat-fur-soaking sobs) know the joy of being a beautiful bride myself.
I get through the day with no meltdowns, and I’m feeling good by closing time. I worked the full shift today, so Tina could spend the weekend with Luca.
She phones me right at closing time, just to make sure I’ve got everything under control. Sometimes we get a flurry of orders right before closing, but today’s been quiet, so she doesn’t need to come in.
“Rory said she met your friend, Drew last night at O’Flannagan’s,” she says. “He sounds like a player. I’m worried about you, sis.”
I squeeze the phone in my hand, silently cursing Rory for tattling on me.
“I’m being a good girl. I didn’t sleep with him. I’m taking your advice, and Feather’s, and I’m staying away.”
“Good. That’s a relief.”
“Tina, how do you turn down guys? I thought I’d feel better today, but I feel horrible. Is it possible that Drew wants me for more than a booty call hookup? Like, if I’m really good at sex, do you think he’ll fall in love with me?”
“Are you joking? I can’t see your face over the phone.”
“Of course I’m joking.” I wasn’t. “I’d be pretty stupid if I thought a guy would fall in love with me because I’m good at sex, ha ha. Um. Ha.”
“Just hang in there. There’s someone for everyone.”
“That’s what pretty people say to ugly people.”
She laughs. “What are you talking about? We’re sisters, and we’re practically identical. How can you say I’m pretty and you’re ugly?”
“My nose is crooked and one of my eyes is higher than the other.”
“Meenie, love always makes us feel vulnerable and not good enough. I thought Luca was way out of my league. I still do. But he wants to be with me, so who knows. Maybe guys aren’t half as critical as we think they are.”
“But what do they want from us? Besides sex.”
“Most of them just want someone to be vulnerable with. There’s a lot of pressure on guys to be tough and rugged, and they all razz each other. Take Luca, for example. He was raised by his father, with no women around for most of his life. All those nice things that we girls do for each other, we take for granted. Guys aren’t like that, but they crave it. You know, I bought Luca some big socks, so he could wear one over his cast and keep his toes warm now that it’s getting chilly. When I looked up at his face, he looked like he was going to get all emotional, or propose to me, or both.” She chuckles softly. “He’s a big sweetie.”
I snort. “I could buy someone socks.”
“Good. But stay away from this Drew guy. I don’t like him.”
I promise her I will stay away, and I end the call.
It’s five minutes past closing time, so I hit the lights, grab my jacket, and fly out the door to lock up.
I’ll still have to see Drew on Tuesday nights, if he keeps coming from group, but I’ll ignore him. Is his problem something to do with women? He did share with me that he’s recovering from a breakup that’s a few years old, but that only confirms that he’s looking for a rebound girl to pump and dump. It’s not going to be me.
I’ve got some checks to put in the mailbox, so I walk up Baker Street, toward the post office.
As I draw close to Sweet Caroline Antiques, I see a familiar person locking up the store’s door. It’s Duncan, his sandy brown surfer boy hair almost touching his shoulders. I haven’t seen him or talked to him since my failure of an apology on Wednesday.
The idea of talking to him again makes my throat feel tight, so I slow my pace and then stop, pretending to look in the window of the hardware store, at their collection of welcome mats.
I watch out of the corner of my eye as a fancy-looking silver car pulls up to the sidewalk in front of the antiques shop. Someone approaches me from the opposite side and taps my arm.
“I thought that was you,” Rory says. She joins me in looking in the hardware store window. “Are you buying a welcome mat?”
“Shush, no.” I jerk my head in Duncan’s direction, but in a small, subtle motion. “I’m spying on the owner of the antique shop.”
“Why?” Rory looks amused.
“Because it’s fun to spy on people.”
She shrugs, as if to say that’s a good enough reason for her. She stands next to me, leaning back enough to look past me, at Duncan.
“Oh. He’s really cute,” she says.
“He’s short.”
“I don’t care. I’m short.”
“Wait a minute, Rory. Back the train up. Did you just say that a guy was cute? A real, human being, not a movie star or magazine photo?”
“Shh.” Her golden brown eyes get wide with apprehension.
“He can’t hear us, I assure you.”
She keeps looking past me. “Figures. Of course he has a girlfriend.”
I turn my head and look. A girl is stepping out of the silver car. She’s got long, long legs, and she’s gorgeous. She walks over to Duncan and ruffles his hair with one hand.
“Wow. Go, Duncan,” I mutter.
“That’s a cute name. Duncan.”
“You think? Come on, I’ll introduce you to him.”
Rory’s eyes widen and her mouth puckers into a tiny rosebud. Before I can tell her I’m joking, she turns and does her Disappearing Girl act. I blink, and she’s gone.
I look back over at Duncan, who’s accepting a shopping bag from the beautiful long-legged girl. He pulls out something—a white pair of overalls like the kind house painters wear—and holds it up to himself, laughing.
They certainly are enjoying their little in-joke.
The two of them get back into the car, with the girl sliding into the driver’s side.
As they drive away, my spirits feel like a guttering candle flame. If a big-mouthed dunderhead like Duncan can pull a hot chick who looks like that and drives an expensive car, then the universe is most definitely not fair at all.