The Last Hour (57 page)

But man, it would have been awesome.

I dread the thought of going to bed right now, to lie next to the man I once cautiously planned a future with in my head before one was planned for us. I suddenly remember I have fresh laundry folded on the living room couch. Grabbing my cell phone, I tiptoe over to my favorite dress. It’s just warm enough outside for the paisley boho dress that makes me feel ten years younger. I call Tosha.

“Nat?” She’s clearly in a bar.

“Where are you? I’m coming to meet you for a drink.”

“Woo! Praise the Lord, Natalie Collins is busting out! I’m at The Monkey Bar, you snit, get your ass over here.”

Thank God I can walk there, I’ve got some drinking to do.

Half a block and a world away, I find Tosha smoking outside. Ditching her conservative professional wardrobe, she’s wearing an almost too-short sleeveless black dress with ridiculously high red pumps. I love her.

“And just how often do you and your sexy-ass girlfriend come drinking a thousand feet from my apartment?” I hug Liz—Tosha’s girlfriend—first. She’s wearing red skinny jeans and a black tank. They match but I don’t mention it. They’d kill me.

“A few nights a week. You know that.” Tosha smacks my butt as we head inside to the glorious noise of anything but toddler screams and marriage cries.