After the office, house-sitting was a piece of cake.

That week we spent two nights in the Sausalito house, and two nights in our own apartments. I worked round the clock, while Simon enjoyed some time off before his next trip. The two nights we spent across the bay he stayed the entire next day, hiking in the headlands, biking through the town, and by the weekend, he was asking when we were heading over.

I worked late Friday night while Simon had a night out with the guys, and Saturday morning we packed our bags and left. Our neighbors Euan and Antonio agreed to baby-sit for Clive; it didn’t seem fair to him to transport him all the way over there for just a few days. If it seemed like we were really going to enjoy it, then I’d consider moving him in. For now though, I was enjoying the perks of being Jillian. Namely, racing her Mercedes convertible through the winding streets up into the hills, with Simon riding shotgun.

“Pretty sure Jillian wanted me to drive her car while she was gone,” he insisted, grimacing as I took a turn too fast.

“Bullshit, she wanted me to enjoy myself. Get over it.” I laughed, punching my foot to the floor as we took off into the breeze.

We ran errands, hit the market, then headed back home to fire up the grill before Mimi and Ryan came over. We’d decided to christen our first weekend with a quiet dinner, and since we couldn’t agree on whether to invite Sophia, or Neil, or both, we settled on just the couple we could count on not bumping chairs.

Sitting on the terrace, Mimi and I watched the boys grill burgers as we munched on carrots. There was a late fog moving in, blanketing the bay with gray clouds and shrouding the city entirely. Shivering a bit, I moved closer to one of the heat lamps that was stationed around each patio.

“We have really pretty boys, don’t we?” Mimi sighed, crunching down on a carrot. I looked at them and sighed as well.

“We really do.”

“Speaking of pretty boys, has Sophia seen Barry Derry since the wedding?”

“Nope, the curb got that one. Good thing too—that man was so dull.” Mimi mimed falling asleep in her chair, snoring.

“We boring you, dear?” Ryan asked, buttering his buns.

“Nope, just thinking about Barry Derry and his insurance ways,” she piped back.

Simon looked over at me and mouthed the words “Barry Derry?”

“The guy Sophia brought to the wedding,” I answered, pulling Mimi out of her chair and ushering her inside the house, the guys following us with their meat. Ahem.

“Oh, that guy? He tried to sell me travel insurance. Was telling me all these statistics about air travel and why I really needed to make sure I was covered.” Simon laughed, setting down the burgers.

I poured more wine for everyone and we each grabbed a seat and a bun.

“Did she ever agree to talk to Neil?” Ryan asked

Mimi and I exchanged a look. Laughing about Barry Derry was one thing, talking about Neil and Sophia was another conversation entirely. One that never seemed to end well.

“No, I don’t think so,” I answered, passing the pickles.

“Jeez, that’s cold,” he responded, slapping a burger onto everyone’s plate. “And if you don’t mind me saying so, a little ridiculous.”

“I do mind you saying so, a little. Who’s got the ketchup?” I asked. “And besides, why should she talk to him, she didn’t do anything wrong.”

Simon passed me the ketchup with a side of stink eye.

“I agree with Caroline; Neil is the one that needs to work for this here, not her. Why should she bend? Who wants onions?” Mimi offered.

“I’ll take the onions, and I think you both are being as ridiculous as your friend. How can he work for it when she won’t even return his phone calls?” Simon said, giving “work for it” air quotes and spilling onions on the floor. “Shit. Babe, throw me that dish towel, will you?”

“Here’s your dish towel, and before you ask, here’s your mustard and your lettuce and your tomato,” I said, setting the plates down a little harder than necessary. “And for your information, your boy, not our girl, is the one who cheated. Ergo, she doesn’t have to return anything.”

“Ergo? When did you become a lawyer? And thank you, this is everything I ever wanted in a burger,” Simon said, making a great flourish out of dressing his patty. “She should at least hear him out; is that too much to ask?”

“Do you even know why she’s so hurt? Why she can’t get over that he cheated?” Mimi said, squeezing the ketchup bottle so hard it squirted all over her plate.

“Okay, can we stop saying cheated? He didn’t cheat, he just kissed his ex-girlfriend,” Ryan interjected, taking a bite of his burger. “Tha’s na cheeinh.”

“Of course it’s cheating!” Mimi and I yelled in unison.

“Okay! That’s enough. No one talks for one minute. Everyone take a bite,” Simon commanded, looking as serious as anyone could, with a burger that was stacked almost nine inches tall.

We all bit. Then chewed. Simon took the longest. He had nine inches, after all.

“Now, can we discuss this like adults?” he asked.

“You’ve got mustard on your lip, Simon,” I said, biting back a laugh. He blushed, then licked his lips.

“I can discuss this as an adult, if you two can admit that what he did was wrong,” I offered, pointing my pickle spear at the boys.

“If I can speak for Simon here, neither of us ever said that what he did wasn’t wrong. We just don’t think he needs to be tarred, feathered, and driven out of town,” Ryan said. “He kissed someone—would you rather he f**ked someone?”

“But that’s the thing: he didn’t just kiss someone, he kissed an ex-girlfriend. The ex-girlfriend, from what you told me,” Mimi answered.

“What do you mean, the ex-girlfriend. You didn’t tell me it was the ex-girlfriend,” I exclaimed, turning to Simon.

“I did too!”

“You did not.”

“I did too!”

“So much for adults.” Ryan snorted, taking another bite of his burger.

“You said it was an ex-girlfriend. You didn’t say it was the ex-girlfriend,” I snapped.

“What’s the difference?” Simon asked, and Mimi’s head exploded.

“An ex-girlfriend just means she’s, like, one of many. No one special. The ex-girlfriend is suuuuuch a bigger deal,” she explained

I could see Simon still didn’t get it.

“You’re talking to someone who doesn’t have any ex-girlfriends, much less the ex-girlfriend,” I told Mimi, signaling her that I had this one. “Simon, an ex-girlfriend is someone you’re happy to see every now and again, you wish her well, but it doesn’t matter in the long run. The ex-girlfriend matters: there’s a connection there, there’s shared history, she’s even maybe the one that got away. An ex-girlfriend, we wouldn’t be so pissed over. The ex-girlfriend, yeah.”

“Wait a minute, just wait a minute. You’re telling me if I kissed an ex-girlfriend, you wouldn’t be pissed?” he asked, mustard on his lip again.

I closed my eyes. “Of course that’s what a guy would hear—no! We’re pissed if you kiss any ex, but an ex isn’t as big a deal as the ex. An ex, the ex—big difference.”

“Okay, please stop saying an ex. I realize it’s grammatically correct, but it just sounds weird. Plus it sounds like you’re saying annex. The point is, you’re pissed because he kissed a girl he had a connection with—or at least you assume he had a connection with, right?” Simon asked. Still with the mustard. This time I wasn’t telling him; he was in charge of his own mouth.

“Ryan, you told me this was the girl he almost asked to marry him, right?” Mimi asked.

“Yes.”

“I rest my case,” she shouted, dusting off her hands.

“Christ, this is going nowhere fast. Okay, so let me ask you this. Which would have been worse: if he kissed this particular ex, or had sex with some random woman he was never going to see again?” Ryan asked.

“Depends,” I said.

“Random. No, ex. No, random. No, it depends,” Mimi said, shaking her head.

“I give up,” Simon said.

“Do you have any Tums in your purse?” Ryan asked Mimi.

“I’m getting more wine,” I announced.

“You’ve got mustard on your lip, Simon,” Mimi said.

• • •

They left. Simon and I did the dishes in silence, passing plates back and forth to dry. He went back outside to the patio; I stayed inside.

Mimi texted me:

Do you think Sophia should talk to Neil?

Yes, she probably should.

You gonna tell her?

I think you should.

Together?

At the diner tomorrow?

Deal. Tell Simon thanks for dinner, it really was nice.

I will, tell Ryan thanks for coming.

They just don’t get it do they?

Eh, they’re boys.

They’re pretty great boys.

That they are. I’m gonna go kiss on mine. See you in the a.m.

XO

I walked outside, bringing coffee for both of us.

“This seat taken?” I asked him.

He shook his head and lifted a corner of the blanket he was under. I sat down and handed him a mug. He sipped, then raised an eyebrow.

“I wanted a little Irish with my coffee tonight. Thought we both could use it,” I explained.

“Agreed.”

We sat together for a moment, silent.

“We can’t keep arguing over this. This isn’t our fight.”

“I know it isn’t. It’s just hard to watch.” I sighed, looking out over the bay. It was quiet tonight, the fog softening all the sounds.

“I get that, but you have to let them work it out.”

“I know.”

“And they can’t work it out if they don’t talk.”

“I know.”

We were both quiet, under the blanket.

“You said something tonight that I didn’t like.”

Surprised, I turned to him. “I did?”

“Just because I don’t have the ex-girlfriend you guys were going on and on about, that doesn’t mean I didn’t have real connections with the people I dated. I don’t have ex-girlfriends because I didn’t have girlfriends in the traditional sense, but that doesn’t mean I don’t understand the difference.”

I nodded. “You’re right.”

“You can’t just negate my past because it wasn’t the same as yours.”

“You’re totally right.” I turned to look at him.

“Okay?” he said.

“Okay,” I replied. He was in a very different place with me than he’d ever been before. “Are we okay?”

“Of course we’re okay. Isn’t this how people in relationships resolve conflicts? You said something I didn’t like, so I let you know,” he said, puffing his chest out a bit.

“Well, good goddamn, Dr. Phil, color me impressed,” I said, clinking my coffee cup to his. “So what do we do next? Y’know, as people in a relationship after they’ve resolved a conflict.”

“Pretty sure a bl*w j*b should follow this,” he said seriously.

“Hmm, that does seem fair.” I traced my fingers up his leg and snuck over to his hi-there. “Did you want that right here or—”

“Christ no, it’s cold out here. Let’s go inside, where it’s warm, to conflict resolutize,” he exclaimed, jumping up and tugging me inside.

“Pretty sure that’s not a word.”

“Blow job is.” He locked the patio door and faced me with a knowing smile.

“I think it’s two words, actually.”

“Talking too much is what got you into trouble in the first place,” he said, pointing me in the direction of the bedroom. “Now get in there.”

I resolved him twice that night.

chapter nine

E-mail excerpt from Jillian to Caroline:

Sounds like everything is going great at work; everyone is saying what a great job you’re doing. I even got an e-mail from Max Camden, who said the work is coming along even earlier than anticipated based on the guys you recommended to hire instead of his usual crew—way to go, kiddo! Hey, how’s Monica doing? Don’t work her too hard. I know you won’t, but the boss in me requires me to say it. I bet she’s a godsend! And I’d tell you not to work too hard, but I know better, right?

Things are amazing here; I almost don’t want to tell you. But I totally will—I am in love with France. Seriously, I could live here. The food alone is a reason to chuck my passport and stay. Did you know you can harvest your own oysters and eat them on the beach in Brittany? Crazy. But now we’re off to Italy, stopping first in Lake Como to stay in a villa that one of Benjamin’s partners owns. No, it’s not Clooney, but I will tell him hello if I see him ; )

Oh, I meant to tell you. Make sure you meet with the accountant this week; he said he’s going to call you to set something up. I need you to e-mail me some files.

• • •

Text from Sophia to Caroline:

Okay. I talked to him. Big woo.

Big woo? Like he was wooing you?

Whoa. No woo. I meant like, big woo we talked, no big deal. You know, “big woo.”

Did he try to woo you?

Caroline, dammit, no. That’s not the point. He wanted to talk, you all convinced me to let him talk, so he talked. I listened.

Did you yell?