by Caitie Quinn
"I…That is, John is…" I tried to put words around it, around John, but all I could come up with were positives. "He's thirty or thirty-one. About three inches taller than me. He has all this hair. It just does whatever it wants. I'm betting his admin was in charge of reminding him to cut it. He runs his hands through it and it just stands on end. Of course he doesn't smell funny. He smells like lemon. Probably because of work. There's nothing wrong with him. It's just…"
"What?"
"He's John." As soon as the words left my mouth I panicked. "Oh my gosh. He's John."
All the hairs on my arm stood up as heat rushed over my skin. Jane must have seen the panic because she poured me a third glass of wine.
"Jane. How could you do this to me?"
"Sarah…"
"Don't Sarah me. How am I going to face him? Everything was fine until you pointed this out. What if I'm falling in love with him?" I sucked in a breath. "Oh no. I think he's dating someone."
"What? How can he be dating someone? You never mentioned that."
"It didn't matter thirty seconds ago!"
Did she not understand what she'd done?
"Okay. Back up. What makes you think he's dating someone?"
"When I asked him about online dating, he said he'd rather try the old-fashioned way first. And, lately he's been out back on the phone or his laptop whenever I come in. Just in the last few weeks."
"That doesn't mean he's dating someone."
"He also made a crack about needing Date Five's email brushing me off in case he ever didn't show up for a date."
"Still, that could have just been a joke."
"And he talks to someone on the phone he calls sweetheart. Who the heck is this sweetheart chick?" My voice jumped up another octave and Dahlia looked at me like I was a confusing new toy. "Plus, through all this, he's never asked me out. And he knows how desperate I am for someone to go to the New Year's thing with. That would have been a perfect chance. But he didn't suggest it. And he said he has to close early New Year's. He must already have plans."
"Oh. Well, that stinks."
"Jane." What was I going to do? How was I going to go back in there and face him with all these swirly feelings? This was a disaster. And when she started coming in for all those dinners by the fire and working or reading while he closed up, how was I going to stick around for that? And Abby had only insulted me once this week. That was progress. I was going to lose it all. There was no way I was going to watch him get serious with someone.
"Come on. You said he wasn't your type. Too soft. And all that hair."
"I like his hair." Oh no. I like his hair. I was doomed. Doomed.
I pictured cool autumn nights, walking from the gym after work to the cozy chairs by the fire. Ordering in different meals. Or maybe occasionally trying to cook something and testing it out on him. Games and books and conversation and coffee. Bringing my work I'd do at home and tucking myself into a corner. All of it centered around John.
It sounded delightful.
I was more than doomed. I was whatever came after doomed.
I needed a romance time machine to get rid of this epiphany. Or maybe just more wine. I laid my head on my arms and tried to think of anything but John.
"Here." Jane opened a new bottle and filled my glass.
What were best friends for?
THIRTEEN
DATING TRUTH #8: When faced with the man of your dreams, the only thing to do is play it cool. Or at least play dumb.
I SUCKED IN A deep, cold breath before pushing my way into The Brew Ha Ha.
Everything would be fine. Everything would be the same. Nothing would be different. I would not act like a complete idiot.
Or, at least, that's what I'd been telling myself all the way over.
Inside, Abby and John were cleaning out the brewers, getting ready for their early close.
"Hey guys." I stood back, afraid to approach. I didn't want them to see how nervous I was. All it would take was one of Abby's comments and I was dead in the water.
"You're here." John climbed down off his step ladder to come around the counter. "Let's see your Roaring Twenties look."
Sadly, I'd put a lot of thought into this. When Claire had suggested the dinner months ago, I'd been excited to go just for the excuse to buy a flapper dress. And since I was going to crash and burn on every other level tonight, I went all out—the dress, the shoes, the beads. I'd even had my hair and make-up done. The stylist had tucked my hair so it looked like I'd gotten a bob.
I was looking pretty good if I did say so myself.
"Did you cut your hair?" He looked a bit shocked. Or maybe it just reminded him he hadn't had his cut in a few months.
"No, it's just the way it's done."
"Oh. Good. You look great. Are you carrying a flask in your garter?"
"A girl never tells these things." I gave him a wink, figuring if I just hammed it up I'd stop feeling like I was going to confess my newfound feelings any second.
"Did you decide to borrow a guy from your friend Jane?"
Even I was surprised at the laugh that rushed out of me. "Nope. I decided instead to deal with Claire and just get over her. And it."
"Good for you." John glanced toward Abby, probably to make sure no snide comments were coming my way. "So, tell me, where is this party?"
"It's in the ballroom at the historic house over on Lake."
"I've always wanted to see it. We had a corporate event there, but I was stuck at work." He shook his head, probably remembering, then glanced around the shop. "Man, I totally love my life now."
It took everything in me not to ask if it was because of his new girlfriend.
Back on topic.
"Getting to see the house is part of the reason I wanted to go. I hear they have an awesome private gallery. Maybe I can get a security guard drunk and flirt my way in."
"I'm sure you could do it. Or you could just give him your card and ask to see it. Probably less police involved that way."
"Oh, John. Always the voice of reason."
"It's true. A burden I have to carry throughout my days." He wiped his hands on the ever present towel and nodded his head toward the counter. "Want some tea? You're running a little early, aren't you?"
"I can't. I promised to stop by work after I was dressed. They're having a New Year's Eve event. We're renting the space out, so I don't have to work it, but they wanted me to just come in and make sure everything was going like it should."
"They're going to love your new look."
"I'm tempted to buy a few more. Maybe I can bring the beaded mini-dress back."
I stood there, grinning up at him like an idiot—noticing his hair and his dimple and the freckles on the bridge of his nose and the flecks of green surprising me in his brown eyes. Just noticing.
"So…" John's eyebrows lifted, probably in an unspoken Why are you looking at me like that? Please stop and back away quirk.
"Right. So, I should get to work. And then off to face the vultures."
"It's going to be fine." He sounded so sure.
"I wish I had your confidence."
"It's easy to be confident. I've watched you handle everything short of a natural disaster with all those dates. If you could get through those, then tonight is going to be a piece of cake."
When put like that, I almost believed him.
Now it was just a matter of embracing my singleness and telling Claire where she could put her cat claws.
FOURTEEN
DATING TRUTH #9: I am woman, hear me roar. That's right, do not tick me off.
WHILE MY CAB WAITED its turn, I watched the line ahead of me as one made-up person after another climbed out and handed over their keys or paid off the cabbie. It was going to be a long night. I'd thought about getting there late or, at the very least, right as things were starting. Leave as little room for all the smug Claire comments and group pity as possible.
But then I got annoyed. Annoyed at Claire. Annoyed
at the other girls for not standing up to her. Annoyed at myself for caring, for not standing up for myself. Annoyed it mattered that I was it. That everyone else was ready to climb on Noah's ark and I was the last of my kind. Just like the poor unicorn.
The point of having friends was not just to have people to do stuff with, but to have people who had your back. Who were there for you.
I may have been the Last Single Girl, but I had been for longer than I realized. The Alphabet didn't count because I'd never let myself get close to Becca and Angie because of Claire.
Again. Claire.
And whose fault was that?
I paid the driver when we got to the door and headed in. Claire could say what she wanted, but I was out, I looked amazing, and it was New Year's Eve. If she wanted to try to ruin it for me, she was going to have to do something extreme. Like burn the building down, or show my junior high pictures on a Jumbotron.
I brushed through the entry, dropping my wrap off at the coatroom and scanning the party. It was mostly groups of friends, a few tables of women. True to its name, the booze was already flowing and the prohibition themed drinks were being passed around like people were liquoring up before a raid.
A large man at the door stopped me as I went to step into the crowd.
"Ticket?"
Leave it to Claire. It didn't dawn on me we'd have to have a ticket. I'd seen her four days ago. I'd paid her four days ago. I couldn't help but wonder if this was a power play, if she'd oops-forgotten-air-quotes my ticket.
Make that tickets. Plural.
"I'm with Claire Christel's group. She has the tickets. I'm Sarah Gable."
The man picked up a clipboard from the stand behind him and flipped through. "Gable. Sarah. I have you down here as two tickets."
He glanced behind me as if I was hiding a date.
Geez. I wasn't going to take it from a doorman too.
"It looks like I'm here solo, doesn't it? Not that there's anything wrong with that or it has anything to do with the unreliableness of your gender. Maybe, before you start doing that look-around-innocently mocking thing, you should stop and wonder exactly what he did to manage to not be here on New Year's Eve, right?"
"Um. Sorry Ms. Gable. You're at Table Eight."
The seventh wheel at table eight for eight. Of course I was.
I made a beeline for the bar, planning to pick up a drink, and if I was lucky a date.
I hadn't even made it through the line when the goosebumps raced down my spine. Definitely a Wicked Witch alert.
"Sarah, we're so glad you made it." Claire clung to a huge man. He was easily six-three and could probably bench lift me. In a Volkswagen.
"Of course I made it. I have a ticket. We planned this in September."
Had she really thought I just wouldn't show up? Probably. Claire was extremely competitive. This was most likely one more way she wanted to win. I have a boyfriend. He's big and strong and good looking… and present.
Fine. Whatever.
I turned toward the very large man and smiled. "You must be Marcus. We've heard some great things about you. I'm so glad you could make it out for New Year's."
"Sarah." Marcus tried to offer his hand, but Claire wasn't letting go long enough for a casual handshake. "I'm glad you could make it."
"Why wouldn't I have?" I kept my voice sweet and my smile a tad bit confused.
"I… ah…" Marcus glanced at Claire, looking for some help. "I'd heard you might not be feeling well tonight."
"Just tonight?"
"Well…" Okay, so Marcus wasn't the quickest on his feet.
And Claire was letting him take all the heat for doing what she would have done anyway. Only crueler. She should just wear the Dalmatian fur coat and get it over with.
"So, where's the mystery man?"
There it was. Cutting to the chase. I was surprised she lasted that long.
"He's not here." I smiled, daring her to push. Daring her to paint me into the corner we both knew I was in. Daring her to step out on that branch and say, Yes. I am that much of a bitch.
"Where is he?"
Okay, so I really shouldn't have been surprised.
"Claire, there's something I want to say to you, and I want you to listen very closely because if someone has said this to you before you weren't listening. You're not a very nice person. Actually, you're a petty, mean-spirited person. I'm not sure why you feel the need to compete with everyone. But being on top all the time means you're making sure someone else is on the bottom. So, would it matter if I got dumped on the way over here? Or if he had already had plans for tonight and wanted to hang with his guys. Or if I'd lied because you made me feel bad?"
Claire looked at me as if I were speaking a different language. Maybe this was the first time anyone had made her see how she treated people and how it made them feel. Maybe I should have just said this to her months ago and everything would have been fine. She just needed to know she didn't need to win at everything to be well liked.
Maybe she just needed to hear that.
"What I'm saying, Claire, is life—friendships—aren't a competition. You don't need to win to be well-liked."
I felt better already. It wasn't like I was the only one she treated like this. It was going to be good for Becca and Angie too. Maybe I'd feel more comfortable being good friends with those two once Claire chilled out a bit.
"I knew it. There's no mystery guy. You lied. You're such a loser."
"Wow. Claire. I feel really bad for you." I glanced at Marcus, the poor man looking like he wanted to be anywhere but here. Having a guy—even the one you wanted—obviously couldn't fill up an unhappy person.
I stepped out of line, no longer caring about the drink and turned to find table eight—otherwise known as The Most Uncomfortable Seating Plan of the New Year—and walked directly into a man in a twenties broad-striped suit.
"Oh, excuse me." I glanced up, about to dart around him.
"No problem, doll face."
"John! What are you doing here?"
"Just now, I was listening to you tell that woman off. I've never seen you so feisty. You should do that more often. Now, I'm about to hand you this glass of champagne and ask you to dance."
Oh. Oh this was bad. So very bad. I was doomed. I was more than doomed. I was emotionally apocalyptic.
The first sign was that I couldn't get myself to stop smiling at him. The second was the rush of heat down my entire body just from standing this close to him. The third… Wow. Did he look good in gangster garb or what?
"Who are you?" Claire. Leave it to Claire to ruin a moment.
John hooked his arm over my shoulder and turned me back to face her.
"I'm John. Or you can just continue to call me the Mystery Man if it's easier to remember." He gave her one of his very kind, very soft smiles. If there was anyone who could win Claire over, it was him.
"So, what? Did she hire you or something?"
"Claire." Marcus had shaken her free and was giving her what could only be a stern look.
I think I liked him.
"I met Sarah just after Thanksgiving. She came into my shop. I bought her a coffee. And we've been seeing each other a couple times a week since." Wow. He was good at that not-lying-but-not-quite-telling-the-truth thing. "Now, if you'll excuse us. I'd hoped to get her on the dance floor before the dinner started."
He drew me away, his arm still warm across the back of my shoulders.
He took my drink as we passed table eight and set it down. Taking my hand, he led me out to the floor and then spun me out and back into his arms. I almost melted against him, but I had to remember, this wasn't real. I couldn't give myself away.
Instead, I winked up at him. "My hero."
"You know it, toots." John winked back, always one to be in on the conspiracy—I mean, joke. "A guy's gotta watch out for his dame."
"But, really, what are you doing here?"
"Did you really think I'd let you face the dragon alone? I
knew what tonight meant and I hated the idea of you having to deal with her all night. I hate it even more now that I met her. What are you doing hanging out with that woman?"
"It's the Last Single Girl Syndrome."
"It's stupid."
I wanted to tell him I wasn't stupid, but before I could, he'd done some fancy footwork and had us moving around the dance floor like we owned it.
"And before you start lecturing me about girls and friends and that you're not stupid, I agree. With the last one at least. But that Claire woman has some issues. You're better off without her."
"I completely agree. But I'm glad you came and rescued me so I could just enjoy the night." I ducked under his arm as he did another fancy spin thing. "I think you'll like Becca and Angie a lot more. Especially Becca. She's really sweet."
"They need a new C. Maybe you could change your name to Cara and take on the leadership role."
"Or, maybe not."
John just smiled and—like every other time—it made me relax.
"So, back to the 'what are you doing here' part."
He pulled me a bit closer to evade another couple who obviously didn't have the floor skills he did.
"Sorry, mate." The guy winked at us. "You know what it's like, distracted by such a beautiful woman in your arms. Right, sugar?"
The girl just rolled her eyes and away they went.
"Ohhh. Do you think they were actors?"
"There are actors here?" John glanced around suspiciously. "They'll let anyone into these speakeasies nowadays. Next thing you know, coppers will be whispering passwords."
I snorted. John was way more fun than the girls. You had to know Claire was dressed for the night, but wouldn't be playing along.
"Anyway, I kept thinking you'd ask me to go. But when you said you didn't want to bring a fake boyfriend, I knew you weren't going to. I knew you thought you had to do this on your own. But—" He swung me wide around another corner of the dance floor. "How much more fun is this? Thus my very dapper outfit."
