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“I’m here,” I called over my shoulder. “Forgot the bottle.” When I sat down at the kitchen table currently serving as my desk, I could see his eyebrow shoot up.

“Have a bad day?”

If you call shoving a tape recorder into the face of a grieving mother who just lost her child a bad day, sure. “
Just the job getting to me.” I leaned my elbow on the table and laid my head in my hand. Wouldn’t be winning any awards for sexiness tonight, but if he liked me with my dragon breath, he’d like me slouched over. Frankly, I was out of fucks to give.

Something crashed in the background and I heard someone apologizing. Evan rolled his eyes and raised his hands in what I assumed was an “it’s fine” gesture, then pointed at the computer. “On Skype with my girl. Do you mind?”

“You got a girl? No fuckin’ way!” The deep male voice shouted before I heard what sounded like a stampeding elephant. “Lemme see her! Is she hot? I bet she’s hot.” The room behind Evan spun as his roommate grabbed the computer. A large tattooed guy with short dark hair filled the screen. He looked at the computer for a second, then glanced over at Evan. “Goddamn, Rodriguez, you hit the fuckin’ jackpot! Is she a model?” Looking back at me, he asked, “Are you?”

It was difficult not to smile at the compliment, even with the interruption of our Skype call. “No, I’m not. But thanks for thinking that. I’m actually a reporter.”

The wrestler’s eyes widened. “A reporter? Evan, bro, you’re sleeping with the enemy!” Just as I was opening my mouth to say something, he cracked up. “Kidding! I think it’s great this dope found someone. Now maybe you’ll distract him enough, the big boss will realize it’s time for me to have the belt.”

The guy toppled over when Evan shoved him out of the way. “Never gonna happen. Now get outta here. I want to spend some quality time with my girlfriend before I have to listen to you snore all night.”

“I do not snore, fucker!”

Evan rolled his eyes. “Sure you don’t, Keith. And you don’t travel with your childhood blankie, either.”

I heard the door open. “It’s my good luck token, you dick!” It slammed as I assumed he stormed out of the room.

My jaw dropped when Evan started laughing. “Didn’t you just get into a fight with your friend?”

“Nah, we always fuck with each other. He’ll probably bring pie when he comes back ’cause he knows I can’t resist. It means extra time at the gym, but fuck it. Apple pie is always worth the extra cardio—even if I loathe running more than anything on this planet.”

I squinted at him, pretending to look hard at something. “Take your shirt off.”

His laughter stopped cold. “Huh?”

“You heard me. Take your shirt off.”

He took no time in whipping it off and tossing it to where I assumed the bed was. “Okay, what do you want me to do now?”

My mouth watered at the mere sight of all that exposed flesh. I’d resisted watching any of the televised shows because I didn’t want to risk every pair of panties I own getting soaked through at the sight of him in those little wrestling Speedo things. “Stand up. Turn around slowly.”

He did, and I almost fainted. Jeans low slung, I could see the
V
of his muscles; my fingers itched to trace those lines. To follow them with nails and tongue. As he spun, I could see the jeans hugging his tight, perfectly shaped ass.

This was a bad idea.

“See anything you like?” He asked as he leaned toward the computer, resting a hand on the table where it sat.

I nodded. “No.”

Evan cocked his head to the side and sat back down. “Um. Huh?”

“Kidding.” I grinned, happy to be out of my bad mood. “But seriously, you talk about needing extra time in the gym when you eat pie... Do you even have any body fat?”

The sound of his laughter filled the room. “Of course I do. If you’re real nice to me, I’ll even let you inspect me for my squishy places when I come back to town.”

Holding my breath so I wouldn’t giggle-snort, I pursed my lips. “Well, I could be persuaded to be nice. If you let me inspect you thoroughly.”

Both eyebrows raised in what I assumed was his attempt at mock innocence. But Evan, especially when looking at me, always looked more than a little naughty. “Charlie baby, is there any other kind of inspection?”

***

“The oven’s beeping, Mel.” I nudged her so she’d get off the couch.

She nudged me back, pushing a little harder and almost making me spill my pinot. “So? It’s your kitchen!”

Pausing the show, I turned to glare at her. “They’re your cookies. I don’t eat walnuts, remember? You bake ’em, you pull ’em. Them’s the rules.”

Mel stuck her tongue out and whipped her nearly waist-length blonde hair at me. “Okay, fine. But for your information, I left the walnuts out. I only make those at my place when I know you’re not coming over.”

“Aww, Mel!” I jumped up, knocking the huge green microfiber blanket we’d been using to cuddle to the ground. “You
do
love me!”

I timed it so she’d already put the cookie sheet down and closed the oven—didn’t want any accidents requiring medical care—before launching myself at her and throwing my arms around her. Our fuzzy-socked feet were no match for the hard wood—ahem, totally laminated—floor, and we tumbled over, crashing to the ground and narrowly missing the still burning hot cookies.

Mel cried out, laughing so hard I had to use our years of friendship to decipher that she’d said, “Ouch my ass” and not “Blow the grass.” It wouldn’t have surprised me though. She’d said far weirder while way less drunk.

“That didn’t quite go as planned.” We lay there, staring at the ceiling and giggling until I heard Mrs. Bannerman from downstairs banging on my floor with her broom. “Oops. Looks like we pissed off the bat lady again.”

She sat up and looked at me. “Did you just call her the ‘
bat
lady?’”

We were falling over ourselves again. Mrs. Bannerman had six cats that we knew of. They were always in and out of the apartment, so it was difficult to know for sure if we were counting different cats or the same ones over and over. I’d hoped to have a sweet neighbor lady I could bake for and play cards with, but her dislike of all things my generation put the kibosh on that thought quick-like and in a hurry.

“C’mon, let’s go back to our quiet night of TV before the
cat
lady,” I said, enunciating each word, “decides to call the cops on us. Again.”

“How does one get the cops called on them at a baby shower, anyway?” Mel asked, jumping up and making sure the oven was off before we headed back into the living room.

I grabbed the remote and settled into my corner of the overstuffed, super comfy couch. “Have a crazy-ass neighbor who doesn’t like fun. Or people.”

“Amen to that, sister.” Mel held her hand up in what I was pretty sure was a blasphemous gesture, but I hadn’t been to church in a long time, so who was I to judge? “Hey, do you need a refill?”

“Uh oh. You’re about to get deep on me, aren’t you?”

When she grabbed the bottle from the coffee table and filled my wine glass almost all the way to the top, I knew our fun girls’ night was about to become serious girls’ night. Sitting next to me, she pulled one foot underneath her and turned to face me. “We’ve been friends for a long time. And we’ve been through a lot.”

“It kinda sounds like you’re breaking up with me.”

She made a choking sound and her eyes bulged a little. “Oh Jesus, no. Never. Bitch, you’re stuck with me for life.”

Tension drained from my body, though I still felt slightly nervous because I had no idea what she was so freaked about. “Good. You’re stuck with me too. Now, what’s going on? You’ve got your intense face on, and you’re kind of scaring me.”

Leaning over, she planted a kiss on my forehead and hugged me tight. “Chill out. We’re good. I just want to know what’s going on with you and Evan.”

“Oh.” I picked at a piece of lint from the blanket, which might or might not have been imaginary. “We’re just… I don’t know, hanging out. Or something.”

Mel didn’t say anything, just gave me her all-knowing look that always made me cave.

“We haven’t defined what’s going on. He’s been coming to town a lot because of the big show happening in a few months. The Main Event, or something. It’s like wrestling’s version of the Super Bowl. So, when he’s in town, we hook up. Go out, have drinks or dinner, sometimes we see a movie. Stay in, watch TV, I cook.”

“And the copious amounts of sex,” Mel supplied helpfully.

I nodded. “Yeah, there’s a lot of sex going on. It’s really fucking good. Best I’ve ever had, what can I say?”

“Not to mention the Skype calls, phone calls, text messages…” She ticked off her fingers as though making a list.

Putting my hand on my hip, I said, “I do all these things with you too. Does this mean we’re in a relationship?”

“Nuh uh uh.” She waved her damn finger at me. “There’s no sex between us. What we have,” she gestured between us, “is friendship. What you two have is a relationship. Why can’t you admit it?”

Instead of answering, I sat back, grabbed the remote, and turned
Crossing Jordan
back on. “This is supposed to be girls’ night. Cookies and binge watching old TV shows. Not serious boy talk.”

Did I sound indignant? Shit, I think I sounded indignant. Or maybe just plain whiny.

Mel took the remote from me and paused it again. Jerry O’Connell stood frozen on the screen with his mouth open and his eyes mid-blink. Somehow, he still managed to be attractive. “We both know why you’re freaking out. I think it’s time to talk about it.”

I crossed my arms over my chest then uncrossed them. I didn’t want to look like a petulant child even if I was prepared to act like one. “I don’t want to talk about it. I want to watch the show.”

“Charlie honey,” Mel let out a long sigh, sending a strand of her hair flying. “Evan’s a good guy, and I don’t want you to push him away because some dickbag hurt you.”

“That ‘dickbag’ was my
fiancé
, Melinda. You know, the person who asked me to love him for the rest of our lives? The one who promised me he would, too? And how does he show his love? By fucking someone else. Oh yeah,
that’s
everlasting love.” I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and reached for my wine. “I’m not up for that kind of pain, Mel. I just want to have fun, Can you please just let me have some fun?”

She nodded and leaned into my side, cuddling against me. “Sure, Charlie. And you know if you need me, I’m here.”

“Yeah, I know.” I pushed play.

***

“Hey beautiful”—Evan leaned over to kiss me—“ready to go?”

I nodded, not feeling hungry or in the mood to go out at all. Even though I loved him being back in town, I just couldn’t muster up the energy to be excited. “Yup. Lemme grab my purse.”

I grabbed a handbag from my probably too expansive collection, shoved my wallet and lip gloss in, and turned to leave when he stopped me.

“What’s wrong?” He closed the door to my room behind him and leaned against it.

“Nothing. It was a long day, that’s all.”

He frowned and set his hands on my shoulders, rubbing up and down in a comforting gesture. “You look tense. Are you sure you’re okay?”

I nodded and swallowed the lump that suddenly appeared in my throat. It felt like I was trying to gulp down a mouthful of mud. “Had a meeting with my bosses today.”

“I take it the meeting didn’t go well?”

“Not really. Because of the lousy economy, they’ve had to make a few cutbacks. They’re giving me one last assignment, covering some fashion show or something, and then they’re…” Closing my eyes, I let out a breath to steel my nerves and face the realization of what went down in my boss’ office. “They’re letting me go.”

Pulling me into his arms, he pressed a kiss to my forehead. “I’m so sorry, honey. I wish there was something I could do for you.”

I tried to shrug, but he still held me close. “Not that big a deal. I’ve been getting tired of all the traveling. I think I’m going to go ahead and apply as a chef. There’s a new restaurant opening in Kemah I’ve heard hasn’t found an executive chef yet.”

Evan took me to dinner at my favorite Indian restaurant, where I promptly gorged myself on lamb tikka masala, then brought me to a little known salsa club in downtown Houston.

“You’ve been doing your homework on the hotspots down here, haven’t you?” I asked as we walked into the bar. The music was loud, and the floor so crowded there was barely room to move around. It was
awesome
.

We took one look at the long line and decided there was no way in hell we were going to be able to get a drink. Two bartenders were hopelessly outnumbered, patrons four deep shouted orders at them in English and rapid-fire Spanish.

I looked up at Evan. “Probably best if we just dance. I have plenty of alcohol back at home. Er… at the apartment. Oh hey, I love this song! Let’s go dance!” Grabbing his hand, I led him out to the floor and hoped he didn’t make a big deal about my little slip.