“I guess there won’t be a fourth date.”
Her mouth forms a little O. “No way. That was him? Finance Guy?”
Lips pressed together, I nod.
“The ‘divorced’ one? With the little daughter he loves so much?”
“Mm-hmm.”
She mutters in Russian. “Ya v ahue.”?1
I’m one hundred percent sure she’s cursing. She never slips into her native language otherwise.
She throws her hands in the air. “Dammit, Ry. What are you, a magnet for liars with commitment issues?”
“I think I’m cursed.” I sink to the floor and slump against the wall. “At this point, I’m one heartbreak away from adopting ten cats and starting a podcast about my nonexistent dating life.”
“Oh, please.” She huffs. “You know you’d get a Pomeranian. You can’t handle cats. You’d never survive the hairballs. I’m talking from experience, and you know I love my cat.” She sits beside me. “I’m so sorry, babe. I’m so fucking mad this shit keeps happening to you.”
“I haven’t been in a relationship since…junior year. And even that wasn’t anything more than a three-month stint of hooking up and going out for pizza and drinks.” I will myself not to cry. “What’s wrong with me?”
“Hey.” Nastya shifts and puts her hands on my shoulders. “Look at me.”
I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from falling apart in front of her.
“There is nothing wrong with you. You are brilliant. Smart.Beautiful. Talented.” She rubs her hands up and down my arms. “You’re kind and compassionate. The person who sees all of you, who appreciates you the way they should, will be the luckiest in the world. Don’t waste your time or energy thinking about the finance idiot. He doesn’t deserve it. Thank God you’ve only been out with him three times. Imagine if you’d been together for three months? Or three years?” She pulls me in for a hug. “Because some people, my girl, hide their true nature way too well.”
Despite the way my chest aches, I can’t help but smile as I bury my face in her hair.
“You’re my best friend in the world,” I whisper.
“And you’re mine.” When she leans away, her green eyes sparkle with mischief.
Knowing that look all too well, I ask, “What do you have in mind?”
“We’re going out Friday.” She stands and holds out a hand to me. “You. Me. Tequila. And someplace we can dance the night away.”
“Grant won’t mind?”
“My husband knows how important you are to me, and he loves you too.” She helps me to my feet. “And since when do I need his permission? We’re partners; forbidding each other is not our style.”
“I admire your marriage so much. Yours and Piper’s.” I sigh. “You make me hopeful that maybe one day, I’ll meet my person too.”
Head tilted, she gives me a sympathetic smile. “You will. I wholeheartedly believe it.”
My phone buzzes on the desk, snagging my attention, so I shuffle across the room and pick it up.
Piper:
Hey. Can you do me a favor?
I talked to my sister this morning on my way to the studio, and she didn’t mention needing a favor. This can’t be good.
Buzz.
Piper:
Could you go check on Hade? We’re worried. He’s not picking up again.
