“Won’t Cara worry?”
“She’s not home. She’s at her mom’s. Wedding tradition to sleep apart on the night before the big event.”
“God, wedding traditions make no sense,” I say. “You guys have lived together for two years, and now she pretends she’s a virgin so you can ‘deflower’ her tomorrow night?”
“You’re so cynical, Olive.” Sheldon pulls playfully at the messy bun in my hair. “Let me come over. Like old times. We can sober up with black coffee on your front porch.”
I don’t have the heart to tell him I don’t need sobering up. I’m plenty sober and have been all evening.
But as long as I can keep him on the porch or in the living room, and out of my bedroom, this should be okay. I agree because I can’t think of a good reason to say no, and I know Cara will be relieved to hear Sheldon left with me rather than stayed out drinking until dawn.
* * *
I text Jenson as we’re walking out of the bar, hoping against hope his phone will wake him and he’ll read my warning to stay in the bedroom.
The television’s on when we walk in the door, but Jenson’s nowhere in sight. Panicked, I grab the dog leash and tell Sheldon to take a barking Bernie out to the porch.
“You left the TV on?” Sheldon says to me. “You’re usually so anal.”
Yes, I am usually. I look at him and shrug. “You caught me.” I shove him and Bernie outside and tell him I’ll be out with coffee.
Sheldon pokes his head back in the door. “Hey, I forgot you got a dog.”
“Yep,” I say, trying to sound casual. “His name is Bernie, after the coffee house.”
“Cool,” he says, but I know he won’t stop there, and he doesn’t. “You know, this is a very good sign, Olive.”
I try to cut him off. “Uh-huh. Sure.”
But Sheldon can’t be stopped. “Usually when you get a dog, a partner isn’t far behind. A dog can help you pick up a good guy this time, Olive.”
“Great.” I go to shut the door on him again, but he stops it with his foot.
“A lot of people get dogs to own with their partner,” he continues. “But I guess you’re one step ahead of the game, huh? You got the dog in place early.”
“That I did.” I push his foot out of the way. “Be out in five minutes.”
I shut the door and then grab the spare set of sheets out of the linen closet and start to make up the large couch before I go find Jenson.
Looking back, I don’t know why I made the decision I did. Obviously I should have found out where Jenson was first, and perhaps all that happened could have been avoided. But I was intent on making up the couch, and it ends up taking me a few minutes longer than I planned.
When I hear Sheldon call out, “Jenson Beau! What the hell are you doing peeing in my sister’s toilet?” I cringe.
I hear the toilet flush. I don’t want to walk around the corner to the guest bathroom. But I do it. Jenson’s in his boxers, thank God, but nothing else.
Shit.
“Jenson!” Sheldon’s so drunk he doesn’t seem phased by Jenson’s underwear-only attire. “What are you doing here?”
Jenson’s eyes flash with panic, and he turns to me.
“Jenson’s drunk, too. Wasted,” I say quickly, the lie coming off my tongue a little too easily. “He locked himself out of his house and can’t find his keys. So I told him to take a cab over here.”
Sheldon looks from Jenson to me and back to Jenson. For one horrifying second, I’m certain he’s going to guess the truth. And if I’m truly honest with myself, a tiny piece of me is relieved that the secret will finally be out.
But Sheldon breaks into a laugh. “I was wondering why you left my party early. Did those rum shots go straight to your head?”
“Straight to it,” Jenson gets out. “Great party, though, Sheldon.”
