“I don’t know how you keep going.” She raises her wine glass to her lips with a shake of her head.
I shrug, finishing off my drink and glancing toward the bar. But Geoff—bless him—is already on his feet, going to order another round. See what I mean? So considerate. He’d be perfect to marry.
“So, what’s living with Michael like?” Geoff asks Alex as he slides back into his chair.
She beams. “I love it.”
“Great,” I say faintly, ignoring the dart of jealousy that shoots through me. I hate to admit that, but it’s true. She met Michael after what felt like five seconds of being in the country, without even trying. I, on the other hand, have been doing the rounds on the dating circuit for four years now—and nothing.
“This is the real deal, isn’t it?” Geoff says. “You and Michael?”
Alex nods, her eyes misting over in the way they always do when she talks about Michael. “I’m so in love with him. I never thought I’d meet someone like him. Is it—” She pauses, glancing between Geoff and I, a smile creeping onto her lips. “Is it too soon to say that I think he’s the one?”
I snort, ready to tell her toslow down. But Geoff kicks me under the table, so I swallow my words down with a gulp of Diet Coke.
“It’s not too soon,” Geoff assures her. “They always say that when you know, you know.”
Alex sighs, her expression dreamy. She’s a hopeless romantic, so it’s hardly surprising that she’s feeling this way.
“Maybe just don’t tellhimthat yet,” I say.
“Oh, no!” She laughs self-consciously. “I know I’m not supposed to do that.”
“Don’t listen to the cynic over here.” Geoff jerks a thumb in my direction. “You do what’s right for your relationship.”
“Hey—” I protest but he silences me with a knowing look.
“Not everyone wants to play byThe Rules, Cat.”
I smirk. When I started dating in earnest a couple of years ago, Geoff gave me a copy ofThe Rulesas a joke. He thought it was hilarious, but it made me think more about my dating life. It’s been a bit of a rough road since my divorce, and while I did meet a few guys I liked, it took me some time to see they weren’t therighttype of guys. It’s like I was innately drawn to assholes, like I had no inner compass to steer me away from them. And if Ididmeet a nice guy, I’d usually say something that just made him think I was cynical and angry at the world. Which I kind of am, especially after what Mark put me through. But I probably shouldn’t broadcast that on a date. You catch more flies with honey than vinegar, right?
It all kind of came to a head after a particularly unpleasant incident in a bar in Brooklyn a year ago. I decided to create a few of my own rules when it comes to men, so I wouldn’t keep making such stupid mistakes. There are only three, but each is important:
1. Always be my best self on dates
2. Don’t put out too soon
3. Stay the hell away from anyone who reminds me of my ex-husband—including liars, cheaters, guys with more looks than substance and (especially important) bartenders
So far, these rules have served me very well.
“It’s okay.” Alex smiles, twirling her wine glass. “I get it. Meeting guys is difficult.”
“Meeting a guy isnotdifficult,” Geoff mutters. “It’s meeting agoodguy that’s difficult.”
“Exactly.”
Alex gives me a sympathetic look. “You’ll meet someone soon.”
I send a brittle smile her way. I can’t stand it when my friends say things like this to me. I know they mean well, but I hate the pity. “Yeah,” I mumble. “Here’s hoping.”
* * *
A little while later,Alex and I wander home together along Bleecker Street. It’s beautiful in the Village; boutique shops and restaurants, row houses and brick apartments, tiny one-way streets lined with trees. And being mid-April, the streets are vibrant with flowers and greenery.
Alex and I live in a redbrick building—me on the first floor, her on the next floor up, with Michael and his son Henry. We say goodnight and I push into my apartment, kicking off my shoes. I set my purse down on the counter and glance around. It’s not very big, but it’s enough: one bedroom with an open-plan living space; the kitchen separated from the living room by a breakfast bar. The whole place is simple, plain, mostly white. In the living room I have a couple of red sofas to brighten things up, but that’s most of the color. Mark liked it pretty minimalist and I haven’t made many changes since we split.
I look over at the nook in the corner of my living room, separated from the main space by a partition-wall. Alex lived there when she first came to the city, but she moved in with Michael a month ago. Now it’s just an empty, abandoned space, gathering dust.
