He smiled. “Good.”
“But two things.” I folded my hands in my lap and clutched them hard. “One, I think we should go out once or twice, just to make sure this is what we want.” I grinned at him. “I mean, I barely know you.”
“True, though I feel like I know you.” He grinned. “At least a little bit, after editing all your footage.”
I cleared my throat. “And the other thing is…there’s another guy in the mix.”
He nodded, taking that in. “Fair enough.”
“He’s someone I’ve known my entire life. Our moms are best friends—”
“So, he’s in the dependable, boy-next-door lane.” Darius steepled his fingers, resting them against his lips.
“Yes,” I said. “I suppose that’s what he has to offer.”
“Well, let me tell you what you get with Darius Carver.” He stood and paced from one end of my office to the other. “I get in to all the best restaurants and hottest clubs, VIP sections. I can get us tickets to any concert.”
“I’ll admit, I’m not a huge club person. Or concerts, for that matter.”
He winked. “You haven’t done clubs or concerts the Darius way. Just wait.”
My stomach bubbled with excitement. Being with Darius could be pretty cool. With Rob, my life wouldn’t change much, and that idea comforted me, but maybe I needed a push into something a little more thrilling. I had never been to a concert with a famous news guy. It’d be worth a shot, anyway.
He sat back down and folded his hands on my desk. “I’m going to be perfectly honest with you. My line of work, if I want to go beyond where I am now—which I do—having a significant other by my side would be an asset, especially if it’s someone poised and impressive.”
“A doctor,” I said.
“Absolutely, a doctor.” He smiled. “Someone close to my age. Someone professional, who understands life and how the game is played.”
“What game?” I asked.
“The promotion game.” His hands grasped for mine. We sat there, hand in hand, staring at each other, like Meg and Mr. Brooks in the Marches’ hallway. But Darius wasn’t professing his undying love and affection. He was making a business proposition—something that my very analytical mind understood and appreciated. We weren’t all that different, Darius and me. “When I saw your text the other night, I thought, Annie gets it. She is looking for stability and companionship. A permanent plus-one. That’s what I need.”
“A permanent plus-one.”
“Exactly,” he said, as if I hadn’t simply repeated his own phrasing. “I’m old enough that I no longer believe in soul mates or love at first sight. I understand that passion fades. Been there, done that. Going into a relationship with eyes wide open, with an understanding that this is a mutually beneficial arrangement, is the mature and modern way to date.”
“Mutually beneficial…?”
“You go with me to my events, I go with you to your events, and we never have to show up anywhere alone again.”
Alone. There was that word I’d come to despise.
Darius got it. The two of us would be agreeing to not much more than mutual companionship. Maybe we could even live mostly separate lives and arrange to meet up only when we needed to. That had always been an issue for me with relationships—the expectation that I needed to be available to the other person twenty-four seven. I couldn’t promise that with my job, and neither could Darius. Our relationship would be much more transactional, which worked for my busy, independent lifestyle. I was looking for a plus-one, not a soul mate.
“You want us to be like Holidate,” I said eventually.
He narrowed his eyes and shook his head. “I don’t know what that is.”
“It’s a Netflix rom-com—”
“Oh, I don’t watch those kinds of movies.”
I mentally started a con column for Darius. “Holidate is a rom-com about two people who decide to be each other’s perma-date for all holidays and large events.”
A slow smile invaded his face. “I like that. A ‘perma-date.’”
I kept my gaze focused on his left cheek, avoiding those eyes and that smile. “But it didn’t work. They ended up falling in love.”
Darius didn’t miss a beat. “Maybe we will, too.”
Chapter Thirteen
Soylent Moon Fries
Kelly had been in Galena all week with Mark, but we had plans to meet up for trivia at O’Leary’s on Thursday night. For once I actually had something besides work to talk to her about. I had two guys who were serious about settling down (with me) and two upcoming first dates with those men. Kelly and I had been missing each other recently—I tried to call her while she was out for dinner with Mark’s family, and she tried to call me when I was busy with a patient—but tonight, we’d finally get to spend time together one-on-one, and things could get back to normal.
When I got to the bar at six o’clock, I sat facing the door at the table we’d sat at last time. Dax immediately brought me an old-fashioned.
“Thanks!” I grinned up at him as I took a sip. “Fantastic. Are you waiting tables again?”
“Nah,” he said. “But I didn’t want to make you get up and lose your spot.”
“Wow. Thank you,” I said, clearing the lump that had settled in my throat. “That was really nice of you.”
“Well, I expect a good tip. I saw you waving that twenty at Peter last week, and I don’t want to chance you giving your drink orders to him.” He winked, and heat tingled my spine. God, I was hard up for attention and affection, for anyone at all to acknowledge my existence—even this young guy, with the scruff and the tattoos. How pathetic could one person be?
“You know I always tip well.” My eyes dropped to my phone and a notification about an upcoming heat wave.
Dax retreated to the bar.
I opened up my text convo with Kelly, which stretched back years, since I bought my first iPhone. I normally deleted conversations, preferring to keep my digital footprint tidy and organized, but I saved every interaction with Kelly, my mom, and Yessi.
I’m excited for tonight! I texted Kelly and set my phone down.
I grabbed the answer sheets Ronald left on our table and wrote “Dorothy and Blanche” across the top of all ten. I’d come up with the name earlier today. I figured whenever Yessi could join us, we’d just add a “Sophia” to that. I chuckled to myself. She is such a Sophia.
I took another sip of my drink as my phone buzzed.
Grinning, I checked the message from Kelly. Crap, Annie! I totally forgot. I’m stuck in Galena right now. I got my first client here, and they want to see every house in existence.
I pressed my lips together and shoved my phone into my purse. I folded my hands in front of me on the table as my eyes started to water slightly. Dax came by and dropped off a plate of French fries.
“The cook made too many,” he said.
I gazed up at him and tried to force myself to smile. “Looks like you really are angling for a better tip.”
“Going for the record.” He paused. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” I said brightly, grabbing my drink and focusing all my attention on stirring that. “Doing great.”
A beat later, Dax said, “Okay,” and walked away, leaving me alone—the way I wanted it.
Hand shaking, I picked up one fry, dipped it in the house-made ketchup, and shoved it into my mouth. I barely tasted anything but the sharp tang of the sauce against my tongue. I chewed and chewed and chewed. Kelly was still in Galena. She knew we had concrete plans tonight, and she was still in Galena. She hadn’t even thought to text me earlier to let me know, because Kelly, my best friend in the whole entire world, had forgotten all about me.
My nose stuffed up, and I blinked and blinked, trying to focus on anything but Kelly. The weather. The grain of the wood on
this table. Bozo’s Circus and the Grand Prize Game. I drew a cube on my answer sheet. Splat! A tear moistened the paper. I wiped another one away. With a wobbling hand, I drew the drink to my lips.
“Good evening!” Ronald bellowed from the stage.
I wiped my eyes and my nose, straightened up, and focused hard on the quiz master.
“Welcome to the last Thursday night trivia for a while,” he said. “Remember, starting in two weeks, O’Leary’s will be hosting the big citywide trivia tournament on Tuesdays. We hope you’ll join us for this very exciting event.”
Oh, yeah. The big tournament. I glanced up at the Very Stable Geniuses table, where the guys were giving each other high fives, ready to crush the Annie-free competition all across Chicago.
I took a big swig of my drink.
“Round one!” Ronald said as his assistant passed out the questions. “Geography. Get ready.”
Instinctively, I pulled the first answer sheet toward me, and I crossed out “and Blanche” at the top of the page. It’d just be Dorothy tonight. Blinking through tears, I read the questions and filled out the entire sheet in about two minutes. Then, with a pit in my gut, I gave my answer sheet to Ronald, avoiding his pitying eyes the whole time, and headed right to the bathroom, where I could use my phone. Ronald had threatened to disqualify anyone caught looking at a screen during the quiz.
I smiled as I passed a twentysomething woman in a cute purple dress, wondering how her night was going—if she could rest assured that her best friend was still her best friend. Just inside the door, I turned on my phone and opened my Kelly chat.
You could have texted me earlier to let me know you weren’t coming. I’m sitting at the table by myself playing trivia alone like a jackass.
I read the words over and immediately deleted them. This wasn’t a conversation to have over text. Kelly and I would need to hash this out face-to-face when we were together again. If we were ever together again.
When I got back to my table, Ronald was already starting the second round—an oral literature round; not my best category. I scrambled into my seat, wiped my eyes, and readied my pen.
“In the New Testament, which book comes after the four gospels?”
“Crap.” I stared at the blank paper, thinking. Bible stuff was never my strong suit. Kelly was much better, since she was raised in an evangelical household and had to recite psalms, chapter and verse, in order to have dessert after dinner. My family was Catholic, not super devout, and we were considered Bible scholars if we knew the gospels were Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John.
“It’s Acts,” a voice above me said.
I glanced up as Dax slid into the chair across from me.
He pointed to the blank spot on my paper. “Acts of the Apostles. Write it down.”
“What are you doing?” I hissed, glancing up at Ronald, feeling like a high school kid who just got caught passing notes during a test. “This is cheating.”
“It’s not. I took the rest of the night off, and now I’m on your team.”
“Jeez, you’ll do anything for that tip.”
“Yes, I will.” He grabbed the pen and wrote “and the Tin Man” next to my “Dorothy.” “Now let’s win this thing.”
…
“You’re pretty darn good at trivia,” I said as Dax poured each of us a water behind the bar. I’d already reached my one-drink maximum, and, after last weekend, I would not be exceeding that anytime soon.
He set the glass in front of me. “Don’t act so surprised.”
“I’m not surprised,” I said. “I’m impressed.”
Our new little team, Dorothy and the Tin Man, performed pretty well for our first time out. We managed to come in close second to the Very Stable Geniuses.
Brad the Genius, speaking of, now sidled up next to me, like Nagini the snake approaching Harry Potter, making me choke on my water. “Hey there. You know, you two are going to be tough to beat in the citywide competition.” He held up two fingers. “Two beers, please.” He squinted at the menu above the bar. “Antiheroes,” he said to Dax.
“I’m off the clock.” Dax tossed his towel on the counter. “Peter will get those for you.” He tapped his fellow bartender on the shoulder and came around to the customers’ side of the bar.
“Seriously,” Brad said. “You guys are smart, and it makes me kind of hate you, honestly.”
“Thanks, I guess?” I glanced at Dax, who had taken the open barstool next to me and was checking a text on his phone. We did make a good team. And right now trivia was the one thing in my life that brought me any joy. Maybe we should team up and kick the rest of Chicago’s ass? “What do you say, Dax?” I asked.
Dax glanced up from his phone. His expression, usually bored and vaguely mocking, had turned worried. His brow furrowed. “Huh?”
“The trivia tournament. The big citywide thing on Tuesday nights,” I said. “Do you want to be teammates?”
His eyes flitted to the door. “Oh, no. I don’t want to do that.”
Right. Of course. I was nothing but a big-tipping old lady to him.
I sipped my water, trying to drown the disappointment in my stomach. “That’s fine. I wasn’t sure I wanted to do it anyway. I’m not always free on Tuesday nights. I have”—I struggled to make something up—“a standing thing with my mom.”
No, I didn’t. If anything, if I showed up at her house on a Tuesday night, she’d shove me right back out the door. Tuesday nights were her Bunco nights with her friends, and I was not allowed to intrude.
“You can join our team,” Brad said.
“Thanks, Brad,” I said. “But if we teamed up, we’d ruin the tournament. We’d be too dominant.”
“You’re right about that.” Brad picked up his beers and headed back to his friends.
Dax and I sat in silence for a moment.
“You okay?” Now it was my turn to ask him that question. He kept acting fidgety and upset.
Dax looked down at me as if he’d forgotten I was there. “Oh,” he said. “Yeah. I’m fine.” He looked at his phone again.
Annoyed, I pulled out my own phone. I’d always heard about women becoming invisible as they got older, though I never truly believed it would happen to me. I was tall and fit and looked younger than I was—or so I thought. But now here I was, abandoned by my best friend, being ignored by a twentysomething bartender. Choosing to pursue pure, unadulterated commitment with either Darius and Rob had been a smart, mature decision. As far as I could tell, no one else would ever look at me as a desirable being again. I kept thinking about that video with Tina Fey and Julia Louis-Dreyfus, about their “last fuckable day.”
I’d apparently reached mine.
Chapter Fourteen
I Am Smartacus
I started to stand, ready to leave and go home to my empty, lonely house and make a date with my trusty vibrator, Timothy Olyphant (who’d never abandon me!), when the door to the bar flew open and in rushed a young woman with long, wavy, honey-brown hair. She wore the same nervous expression as Dax, whom she approached breathlessly.
“Dax, I am so sorry about this.”
I sat right back down in my chair. Might as well use my newfound invisibility to spy on people and get the gossip. Maybe this new superpower wouldn’t be so bad. At least I’d be able to entertain myself. It was like watching live television.
“What am I supposed to do, Lily?” he asked, eyes flashing with anger.
She took the spot on the other side of Dax. “I know, seriously. It sucks, and I’m so, so sorry.”
I turned my head under the guise of checking the score on the TV—Cubs two, Cardinals zero—and in the process, nearly fell off my barstool.
Dax caught my arm without looking at me. “Hey, Peter, can you get Lily a beer?”
“A Miller Lite,” she said.
“Get someth
ing better,” he told her. “It’s on me.”
“Dax, I like Miller Lite.”
“Many people do,” I said.
Annoyed, Dax gestured toward me. “Lily, this is Annie. Annie, this is Lily, my sister.”
Oh, sister. Interesting. The plot thickens. I reached across Dax and offered her my hand. “Nice to meet you.”
“Are you…?” Lily, blue eyes wide, looked from me to Dax.
“No,” Dax and I said at the same time. A giggle bubbled up in my throat. As if.
“She’s becoming a regular here,” he added, rubbing his temples.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“Nothing,” Dax said sharply.
“Obviously it’s not nothing,” I said. “Is it a headache?” I rummaged in my purse. “I always have ibuprofen…”
“It’s not a headache.”
Lily accepted her beer from Peter with a brief smile. “I just told Dax—”
“Lily, I’ve got it.” Dax glanced at me. “It’s really no big deal. I’ve been staying at Lily’s…for a little while,” he said, covering up some secret bit of information he evidently didn’t want me to know, “but now I have to find a new place to live. Immediately.” He sighed.
“Not you,” Lily said, frowning. “You can stay, but she has to go.”
She? This conversation kept getting more interesting. “Who’s she?” I asked.
“Joanne,” Lily said.
“My dog,” Dax said.
“You know I love Joanne.” Lily placed her hand on Dax’s forearm. “She’s the sweetest girl in the world, but Travis is super allergic.”
“You said Travis would be down in Atlanta,” Dax said.
“They lost their funding.” Lily looked at me. “Travis is my roommate. This situation was supposed to be perfect—Dax and Joanne needed a place to stay, Travis’s room was going to be available for a few months while he shot a movie down south—but now—”
“Travis is back,” Dax deadpanned.
“Yeah.” Lily frowned. “Again, Dax, I’m so, so sorry.”
“I know you are.” Dax cuffed his sister lightly on the arm. “But now what am I supposed to do?”
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