Iris laughed. It was true, she would never, but she did find it extremely unfair that Astrid and Claire, her best friends of twentyyears, both had fairy-tale love stories. She was happy for them, of course, but Jesus, what amazing rom-coms both of their lives would make.
Iris:Fine. Go to sleep, you geriatric romantics
She swiped out of the chat and tapped on Simon’s name, forgoing texts altogether.
“You’d better be dying.” His voice was languid, like he was either asleep or tipsy.
“I’m alive and well,” Iris said. “Sorry to disappoint.”
“Stranded?”
“Nope.”
“Being held at gunpoint?”
“I kicked him in the balls and got away.”
“Then to what do I owe the horror?”
“Wow, you sure know how to make a gal feel special.”
Simon grunted. “Sorry. What’s up?”
“Are you in the city?” she asked.
“Yeah,” he said cautiously. “Why? Or do I even want to know?”
Iris smiled. “I need a wingman. Are you up for it? Please say you’re up for it, because if you’re not, I’m going to show up at Emery’s apartment with a suitcase and a pillow and a whole hell of a lot of comfort food, and you know how Emery likes to keep their place nice and tidy.”
He laughed. “I guess I’m playing wingman tonight, then.”
“Good answer, my darling,” Iris said, starting up her car, then plugged in her phone so the call came through the speakers.
“You doing okay?” Simon asked.
Her throat went suddenly tight. Simon had this way about him, a tender manner of speaking that seemed to cut through all of Iris’s jokes and make her question everything—wasshe actually okay?
“Yeah,” she said. “I’m great.”
“Uh-huh.”
She sighed. “Just family shit. I need to blow off some steam.”
“And by steam, you mean...”
“Yes, Simon, I want to have sex with someone, okay? Happy?”
He laughed. “I mean, I already had sex tonight, so, you know, you get yours.”
“Okay, brag.”
She ended the call, thinking about how she was a mere half hour from getting lost in a crowd of people in a club. She could let the music propel her around a dance floor, the dim lights making everyone and everything look beautiful and dreamy. Hopefully, she’d meet someone who’d help her forget about her novel, her family, the creeping loneliness she sometimes felt when her friends were all coupled up and tucked in for the night.
She gripped the wheel as she sped down Main Street toward the state roads that would lead her to I-205. And when she’d told Simon she was fine, she was great even, it didn’t even feel like a lie.
CHAPTER FOUR
THERE WAS Areason Stevie didn’t often go out to bars, especially ones like Lush. The club was dimly lit, featured neon lights blinking through the room in nauseating patterns, music loud enough to incinerate her eardrums, and a crush of bodies that made her feel the need to take a shower.
