“The bathroom,” Clarabella says with a smirk. “Don’t feel bad, we did it there also.”
“I’m never using that bathroom again,” Presley vows, looking like she is going to throw up.
“We put a towel down,” Shelby says, looking over at Clarabella.
“We did not,” she informs us, and now Presley pretends to vomit.
“Can you guys not wait to get home?” Presley asks them. “Like, it’s Mom’s house, what the hell were you guys doing that got you all hot and bothered that you needed to jump his boner?”
“Luke came in and brought me my favorite food,” Clarabella clarifies.
“Ace was gone for two days, and when he came in, he gave me a look,” Shelby explains, and I have to say I don’t think I have ever lost my head about someone that just one look did it. Liar, my head yells. With Matthew, one look was all it took, and you were either down on your knees or pushed up to a hard surface, fuck, any surface. We did it in the closet of a restaurant once because he kissed my neck and told me I was fucking beautiful in my ear. “Anyway,” Shelby says, “how was he?”
“It was fine,” I repeat. “He was fine. It was just we didn’t really have much in common.”
“You don’t have to have anything in common to get the D,” Clarabella says and the other two agree with her.
“Ugh, fine,” I concede, throwing my hands up like waving the white flag. “It was dull. He was nice, but I swear to God, I think I would have had a better time watching paint dry.”
“What did you tell him?” Shelby asks and I literally bang my head on the table.
“Oh, you didn’t tell him,” Presley says softly, and I just shake my head.
“What was I supposed to say?” I ask them when I finally put my head up. “It’s not you, you are really a nice guy.” I look at them and they must know I’m not finished. “That’s the shittiest thing to say.”
“Not if it’s the truth,” Clarabella states and now we all glare at her. “Hey, I’m a fucking unicorn, so it’s never me, it’s them.”
“I don’t think you should give up that easily,” Shelby says, “maybe he was nervous.”
“Yes, maybe he’s dull outside and a freak in the bed,” Clarabella adds, and I just look at her, my eyebrows going up and down. “What? It sounded like a good thing to say, but he probably just does it missionary.”
I close my eyes. “I don’t even want to know.” I get up. “I’m going to call him later.”
“Or ignore him,” Presley urges.
“That worked great for you.” Shelby gets up laughing. “Didn’t you just have his second child?”
“I didn’t ignore him,” she says, avoiding looking at anyone. “I was busy.”
I can’t help but laugh before I walk out of the room and go to my office. The vase of carnations is on the side of my desk. I pick it up and walk out toward the kitchen with it. “Who died?” Presley asks when I walk by her office.
“He brought me these before the date,” I throw over my shoulder, and she gasps out loud.
“You should have led with that before,” she says, laughing. “I would have pretended I was vomiting in the bathroom before we even left.”
I put the flowers on the counter in the kitchen before going back to my office and starting my computer. I scan my emails, surprised I don’t have any from Helena with her questions on the flowers. Every single time we’ve had a meeting, she emails me at least five times with different questions.
I answer a couple of emails from new clients and set up five meetings for the following week. The girls head out to have lunch and I opt to just work, hoping I can get things done so I can go visit the family for the weekend.
The bells ring, alerting me that someone just walked into the office. I get up and walk out with a smile on my face that quickly fades when I see who is standing there. “Hi,” I say to Matthew, folding my arms over my chest. A chill runs through me. “Is everything okay?”
He is in his track suit again with that stupid baseball hat backward. Why is that so hot, like why? Oh, I know why, because he used to wear it like that all the time so he could kiss you without it banging your forehead, that’s why. “Yeah,” he huffs, and I don’t know why something seems off. “I came to give you this.”
He holds a white envelope in his hand and for the life of me my hands stay stuck to me. “You can take it,” he urges me.