“I’m always amazing; you know that. Now, how are you really?”
I shouldn’t have told her about the breakup. Or, more accurately, I shouldn’t have given her all the gory details. But I needed to vent, and there is no one better to vent to than Zoe.
“I’m fine, Zo.”
“Not pining for Mr. Spray Tan?”
“He didn’t have a spray tan and no.”
“Mr. Hair Plugs.”
“He didn’t have those either.”
“Mr. Butt Botox.”
I crack up. “I don’t think that’s a thing. And you never even met him, so you wouldn’t know any of this anyway.”
“Itcouldbe a thing. And I don’t need to meet him to know he’s the kind of asshat who would get butt Botox if it were a thing. And anyway, at least I got you to laugh.”
True enough. “Yeah, thanks.”
“So, are you really okay?”
I fiddle with a clamp on the workbench. “I’m okay.”
“You need to meet a nice guy—that’s what you need.”
As if that would change anything. Meeting a nice guy and having one want to spend time with me long-term are two very different things. But I’m smart enough to keep that thought to myself. “Uh-huh.”
“I’m serious!” She gasps, then lowers her voice to a mischievous whisper. “You want me to fix you up with my friend George?”
“Your friend George.”
“He’s really cute…”
“Your friend George is a famous author. He’s been on the cover ofTimeMagazine. I make wooden knick-knacks for a living. And was too boring for a guy who sells antiques to octogenarians.”
“Eh, it’s probably for the best. George has been in amood.”
I chuckle to myself. If I didn’t love Zoe so much, I’m not sure I’d know what to make of her. “Listen, Zo, I appreciate it, but I’ll be okay. I don’t need to be fixed up. I just need to lay low here for a while, take some time to myself?—”
“Oh my God, Owen Wilde, that is the absolute last thing you need! Good Lord, if you sit alone in that cabin one more day, I swear you’re going to?—”
Zoe’s voice cuts off abruptly. I look at the phone. The call still appears to be connected. “Zo?”
Over the line, Zoe lets out a little, happy squealing noise.
“Zoe, what are you?—”
“Your cousin is a genius, Owen. A genius!”
I love Zoe, but that kind of statement generally means trouble.
“Why are you a genius?”
“Mmm… I’ll tell you tomorrow.”
“Zoe…”
