“Well, Sophia and Neil finally got together and—”

“Wait a minute, Sophia and Neil? I thought Sophia was with Ryan?”

“She was, she was, but truthfully she was always meant to be with Neil, so it all worked out in the end.”

“Poor Mimi and Ryan. That must’ve been weird for them.”

“Ha! Oh yes, poor Mimi and Ryan. They got it on in the pool house, for God’s sake.” I snorted.

Jillian’s eyes grew wide. “In the pool house…wow,” she breathed, and I nodded.

We sizzled.

“So, Simon went to Tahoe, right?” she asked a few minutes later, looking everywhere but at me. I cracked a small smile at her imagined stealth. Jillian was many, many things, but subtle was not one.

“Yep, Simon was there.”

“And how was that?”

“It was great, and then it wasn’t, and now it’s weird,” I admitted, setting aside my soup to drink my tea. It was soothing and non-caffeinated, which Jillian had insisted on.

“So, no pool house for you two?” she asked, still glancing around the restaurant as though she weren’t asking me anything of importance.

“No, Jillian, no pool house. We hot tubbed, but we did not pool house,” I said emphatically, and then I spilled my guts and told her the entire ridiculous story.

She listened, she hmm’d and groaned in the right places, and she got indignant in the right places too. By the time I was finished, I was in tears again, which was really pissing me off.

“And the stink of it all, I shouldn’t have been doing it, but he is the one who stopped it, and I don’t really think he wanted to!” I huffed, angrily wiping tears away with my napkin.

“So why do you think he did?”

“He’s gay?” I offered, and she smiled. I took a deep breath and got control.

Jillian looked at me thoughtfully and then finally leaned in. “You realize we are two smart women who are not acting very smart right now,” she said.

“Huh?”

“We know better than to try to figure out what a man is up to. This’ll get worked out when it’s supposed to. And your tears? These are tension tears, frustration tears—nothing more. I’ll tell you one thing, though.”

“What’s that?”

“As long as I’ve known Simon, I’ve never heard of him inviting someone on a shoot with him, ever. I mean, inviting you to Spain? That’s very unlike Simon.”

“Well, who knows if I’m even invited anymore.” I sighed dramatically.

“You’re still friends, right?” she asked, raising an eyebrow at me. “Why don’t you just ask him?” When I didn’t respond she added, “Stick that in your pipe and suck it.”

“I think it’s smoke it, Jillian. Stick that in your pipe and smoke it.”

“Ah, smoke it, suck it, whatever. Eat your fortune cookie, sweetie.” She smiled, nudging the cookie across the table. I cracked it open and removed the fortune.

“What does yours say?” I asked.

“Fire all employees who have more than one pencil in their hair,” she stated seriously. We laughed together, and I could feel some of the tension finally leaving my body.

“What does yours say?” she asked.

I opened it up, read the words, and rolled my eyes to the ceiling. “Stupid fortune cookie,” I sighed, and handed it to her.

She read it and her eyes went wide again. “Oh, man, are you in for it! Come in, let’s go back to work.”

She laughed, tugging my hand and leading me from the restaurant. She gave the fortune back to me, and I started to throw it away, but then slipped it into my purse:

Be aware of the walls you build

and what could be on the other side

Confucius, you kill me.

Text from James to Caroline:

Hey there.

Hey to you.

We still on for Friday night?

Yep, I’m in. Where are we going for dinner?

There’s a great new Vietnamese restaurant I

’ve been wanting to try.

Have you forgotten I’m not really big on Vietnamese food?

Come on, you know it’s my favorite. You can get soup!

Fine, Vietnamese it is. I’ll find something.

BTW, the last of your furniture should be delivered Monday. I’ll be there to receive and place.

How much longer until the project is finished?

Except for a few pieces in the bedroom,

should be all done by next weekend.

Ahead of deadline I might add…

Very good. Will you also be there

to finish things in the bedroom?

Stop it, Jamie.

I hate when you call me Jamie.

I know, Jamie. See you Friday night

The day had exhausted me. I literally had nothing left. I had plans to go to yoga, really I did, but as the evening approached all I wanted to do was go home. I wanted Clive, and I could no longer pretend that I didn’t also want Simon. Maybe he would be home? As I walked up the stairs I could hear Simon’s TV through the door. I was already turning my key in my lock when I thought about my fortune cookie. I could knock on the door, right? I could just say hi, right? As I debated, I heard his phone ring, followed by his voice through the door.

“Nadia? Hey, how are you?” he said, and that made up my mind for me. He had his harem, and I couldn’t possibly enter in to something like that. If I wanted Simon, I wanted all of Simon. I’d promised myself no more messing around. As I felt tears prick at my eyes for the thousandth time that day, I walked in to find Clive waiting for me, and I smiled through my tears. I picked him up, cuddling him to me as he told me all about his day in cat speak. I interpreted for him, and it would seem that Clive’s day consisted of a light snack, a nap, about thirty minutes of grooming, another snack, another nap, and then he watched the neighborhood for the rest of the afternoon and evening. Leftover takeout with Ina and Jeffrey on the couch, a quick shower, and I packed it in early. I simply could not allow this day to go on any longer.

With Clive curled between my legs, I went to sleep, again with no music from the other side of the wall.

The following night I stood in front of my mirror, trying on different shoes for my date/not a date/of course it’s a date with James. I’d almost called him twice today to back out, but in the end, I pushed through it and got dressed. Sometimes a girl just needs to get dressed up, and tonight I was dressed to kill: thin, fitted black blouse, tight red pencil skirt, teetery tall heels.

I’d been conflicted about this event, whatever it was, all week long. But I wanted to go. Was I using James a little? Perhaps. But I did have a good time with him, and maybe it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world for us to start back up again.

“Caroline Reynolds, you heartbreaker,” I whispered to myself in the mirror. I actually cracked myself up. Clive was embarrassed for both of us and hid his nose behind his paw. I was still laughing when I heard the knock at the door. I slipped into my heels and went for the door, Clive close behind.

I took a deep breath, and opened it. “Hey, James.”

“Caroline, you look great,” he murmured, stepping inside and catching me into a hug.

As his arms went around me, I knew immediately. This was a date.

He smelled spicy. I don’t know why girls always say boys smell spicy, but some do. And it’s a good thing, warm and spicy. But not like potpourri…

I hugged him back, enjoying the way my body still fit with his. We always were good at the hugging.

“You ready to go?”

“Yep, let me grab my bag.” I knelt to give Clive a quick kiss. He tossed his tail angrily in James’s direction and wouldn’t let me kiss him.

“What’s your problem?” I asked Clive, who turned and showed me his rear end.

“You know, that’s starting to become a very rude habit, Mr. Clive,” I warned him as I picked up my purse from the table. I stuck my tongue out at Clive, grabbed James, and locked the door behind us.

“Okay, so dinner?” I asked as we stood outside my door.

“Yep, dinner,” he replied, standing very close to me. We stared at each other—for only seconds really, but it felt much longer. He stepped a little closer, and my breath caught. Of course, just then Simon decided to open his door.

“Hey, Caroline! I was just—Oh, hi. James, right?” His smile faded slightly when he saw my dinner date. Date, date, date.

“Sheldon, right?” James said, offering his hand.

“Simon, actually.” He raised his trash-bag-filled hands and declined the shake. “After you.” He nodded to the stairs, and the three of us began to troop down together.

“So, where are you two crazy kids off to tonight?” Simon asked as we walked ahead of him.

I could feel his eyes on the back of my neck, and as I hit the landing I looked back. He had a fake smile plastered across his face, and his voice was colder than I’d ever heard it before.

“Caroline and I are headed out for dinner,” James answered.

I smiled back over my shoulder. “Yes, some lovely little Vietnamese restaurant,” I cooed, pretending to be thrilled.

“You don’t like Vietnamese food,” he said, frowning.

This made me smile. “I’m going to try the soup,” I answered.

James locked eyes with Simon as he held the door for me. He let it swing right as Simon came through with his hands full of trash bags, but I caught it just in time.

“Well, have a good night,” I said as James walked me toward his car with his hand on the small of my back.

“’Night,” Simon answered, lips tight. I could tell he was irritated.

Good.

James bundled me into the car, and we were off.

The dinner was fine. I ordered fried rice off of the fusion side of the menu, and when it arrived, for a moment all I could think about was eating noodles on a houseboat in the middle of Ha Long Bay with Simon.

But as I said, dinner was fine, the conversation fine, the man I was with, fine. He was a fine-looking man with a great future ahead, his own adventures to be had, mountains to conquer. And tonight, I was the mountain. I kind of wanted to let him climb.

He walked me upstairs to my door, even though I could have stopped him from coming all the way up. As I dug for my keys, I could hear Simon’s phone ringing, and he answered.

“Nadia? Hi. Yep, ready when you are.” He laughed.

My heart clenched. Fine. I turned to say goodnight to James, devastatingly handsome and right there. Right there in front of me. O had been gone a long time, and she and James had once been close. Could he? Would he? I was going to find out. I invited him in.

As I pulled a bottle of wine from the fridge, I watched him scan the room, taking stock of everything: the Bose sound system, the Eames chair by the desk. He even checked out my crystal as I handed him his glass. He thanked me, his eyes burning into mine as our fingers slipped past each other.

Nature took over. Hands knew, skin recognized, lips teased and became reacquainted. It was new and old at the same time, and I’d be lying if I said it didn’t feel good. His shirt came off. My skirt dropped, I kicked off my heels, and our arms wrapped and tucked in. Eventually and inevitably, we headed to the bedroom.

I bounced lightly on the bed, watching through hazy eyes as he knelt before me on the floor.

“I missed you.”

“I know.” I pulled him on top of me. Everything was fine, everything was as it should be, and as I mechanically wrapped my legs around his waist, his belt buckle digging cold into my thigh, he looked deeply into my eyes and smiled.

“I’m so glad I needed a decorator.”

And just like that, fine was not enough.

“No, James.” I sighed, pushing at his shoulders.

“What, baby?”

I hated when he called me baby.

“No, no, just no. Get up.” I sighed again as he continued to kiss my neck. Tears sprang to my eyes as I realized what used to make me feel something now made me feel nothing at all.

“You’re kidding, right?” He moaned in my ear, and I pushed him again.

“I said get up, James,” I said, a little louder this time.

He got the message. Doesn’t mean he was happy to hear it. He stood up as I smoothed my shirt, which was thankfully still mostly buttoned.

“You gotta go,” I managed, tears beginning to track down my cheeks.

“Caroline, what the—”

“Just go, okay? Just go!” I yelled. It wasn’t fair to him, but I had to be fair to myself. I couldn’t go backward, not now.

I clasped my hands to my face and heard him sigh, then stomp off, slamming the door. I couldn’t blame him. He must’ve been in blue-ball hell. I was sad and mad and a little bit tipsy, and I hated my O. My eyes landed on one of my Come Fuck Me shoes on the floor, and I threw it as hard as I could into the living room.

“Ooof!” I heard a deep voice utter, and it was not James Brown’s. It was the man I did want in my bed, and the one I was most mad at right now. Holding the shoe like some kind of late-night Prince Charming to my slutty O-less Cinderella, Simon appeared in my doorway, barefoot and in his pajama bottoms. The sight of his perfect speedbump abs crossed me over from pissed off to M. A. D.

“What the hell are you doing here?” I asked, angrily wiping my tears from my face. He was going to see me cry.

“Um, I heard you and James…Well, I heard you, and then I heard you yelling, and I wanted to make sure you were okay,” he stammered.

“You’re not here to rescue me, are you?” I bit back, air-quoting the rescue.

He backed away as I crawled off the bed, seeming scared of my impending explosion. Even I knew this was going to be ugly.