I unrolled the crumpled top, a papery whisper filling the air.Peering into the dimness, my brow furrowed, a knot forming between my eyes. All I could see was a plastic food container and a sticky note. No glitter, no dick pic. I reached in and pulled the container out.
The note read, “For Bill,” in fat black Sharpie.
I peered through the plastic, my eyes widening at the sight of a small, frosted cupcake. Confused, I noticed the round, two-toned sticker on top that read, “Nancy’s Puppy Cakes and Confectionery.”
Bill barked, and I looked at him. Drool was gathering around his mouth.
“You want this?” I asked in my very best doggy voice. “I think someone is trying to sweeten you up.”
I popped the top off the container, smelling a carroty scent mixed with a grainy, mealy sweet something. Not your average cupcake smell.
My nose wrinkled.
Bill yipped. I could tell he was losing patience with me.
“Okay,okay,here.” I stopped delaying and peeled back the wrapper on the cupcake. Bringing it to Bill’s nose, he sniffed it a few times, eyes wide. He licked the snaggletooth stuck on his lip before he tentatively wrapped his mouth around it. Once I let go, he inhaled it.
“Bill! You could at least savor it,” I scalded with a laugh.
I grabbed the bag and container from the counter, searching for anything I’d missed.
Nothing.
No pornographic photos or pushy questions—just a cupcake for Bill.
I crumpled the bag and threw it in the trash, but kept the sticky note. I put it on my refrigerator, staring at it and letting my feelings simmer.
Seeing Nash last night was nothing short of terrifying.
I’d finally had the chance to relax into the show, riding the high of the near-immediate sale ofDoubtto a hilarious man in the most absurd suit. One of the floor staff handled the sale, the paperwork changing hands until it reached Cat, who would handle it from there. I was anxious to hear what it sold for.
I’d been managing my anxiety well—until Nash walked in. He had a stunning woman on his arm. She was flawless. Several things happened at once, colliding in my brain:
There was excitement.
There was crushing disappointment.
There was overwhelming fear.
It all resulted in disaster. Nash’s face alone would have been enough to send me into a fit of palpitations, but all of it?
It was awful.
The woman on his armhadto be his girlfriend; she justhadto be. They looked perfect—and, looking back, maybe too perfect, like,familyperfect—but I was busy drowning in my black and white thinking and not in the right frame of mind. All I saw was the perfect woman looking very cozy, and it felt like the world was ending.
An entire year could have passed, lost in my thoughts as I was. Reality was gone, rationality nonexistent, but then Nash made introductions.
She was hissister.Her name was Betty.
It was like being sucked back to the present through a straw.The relief I felt was surprising. I wanted to smile and thank the heavens on the spot. But then I registered how he’d delivered the news:
“Nothis date,” he’d said.
It’s pretty clear that when guys in books spoke like that, they meant it. They were laying Easter eggs of well-placed wording, spelling out, “I’m single, and interested—in you.”
My relief was dead on arrival, stuttering to a stop.
My ears began ringing, my palms sweating, my cheeks hot as hell. Betty was talking to me, but I couldn’t follow a word of what she was saying. Thankfully, she seemed to carry a conversation just fine on her own. It was nice, and I wish now I could have enjoyed it.
