I gave him one last kiss, and with a rueful smile, patted his cheek. “I’m sorry. Guess it’s not my night.”
“I’m the one who’s sorry,” he said. “Why so sad?”
I shook my head, unwilling to unburden my story on a stranger. “Just the way it is. Thank you for the drink, though.”
He stared at me with a dark, assessing gaze. “You don’t belong here.”
“Probably not, but my best friend dragged me, so here I sit.” I drank down half my martini.
“Do you always do what he says?”
If I’d listened to Frisco, I would never have stayed with Jared after I found out he was married.“There are eight fucking million people in this damn city, Press. You can find one whose dick isn’t already spoken for.”Francisco “Frisco” Martinelli normally thought with his dick, but he did possess his own code of honor. Perhaps because he’d lived through his parents’ terrible divorce, where both cheated and slung nasty, vile insults at each other. Frisco slept with men and women—he didn’t discriminate—but was very clear about whatwasoff-limits to him, and that was people who were married, engaged, or in otherwise committed relationships.
“No,” I replied, “but he happens to be correct in this instance. Look”—I drained my drink, then stood to leave—“you seem like a nice guy. You should find someone who can give you what you want.”
“And that’s not you?”
“No.” I shook my head with sorrow. “I don’t even know what I want.”
Later that night I sat in my apartment, going through old emails from Jared, when my phone buzzed with a text from Frisco.
What are you doing, or hopefully who?
I’m home. I left after a little while.
My phone rang, and I braced myself for the onslaught. “Okay, before you rip into me, I tried. I talked to the guy, even kissed him.”
“Well, thank God for that.”
“But it was a big zero. I felt nothing.”
“Of course you didn’t. Your mind is still tied up over that cheating bastard.”
I winced. Frisco had never been anything less than brutally honest about his feelings for Jared. As in…he hated him.
“Look—”
“No, you look. I’ve had it. I know you think I’m a slut, but at least I’m honest about not being interested in a relationship or settling down. But you want that life. God only knows why, but you believe in that ‘one true love and happily ever after’ nonsense. I’ve already told you it’s all a crock of shit.”
“Just because your parents were miserable doesn’t mean it’s not available for you. My parents loved each other.”
“Fifty years looking at the same face every morning? I don’t even want the same breakfast twice in a row.” He exhaled, clearly frustrated.
As we spoke, I’d begun my nightly scrolling through various personal ads, but nothing hit me. I logged on to my Facebook account, and of course all my ads were now for dating services.
“I want to meet someone who can make me feel less lonely. Jared—”
“Is dead. And never loved you. I’m sorry, Press, but I have to be truthful. If he did, he would’ve left his husband, but he didn’t and never meant to. You need help. More than I can give you, since my methods haven’t worked.”
“Yeah, I know. Telling me to go get laid every time I look at someone isn’t the answer.”
“So what is? Because hiding from life hasn’t worked either. Maybe you should try therapy or look for a support group.”
“Support group? For who? People jilted by their married lovers?”
“No, babe. I’m being serious.”
I winced. When Frisco brought out the endearments, I knew his emotions were taking over. He didn’t let anyone but me see the softer side of him, and even that was rare.
