The Last Guy

It’s like she doesn’t hear me.

“Here look at this.” She shoves her phone in my face and shows me a picture. It’s a blurry image of a reddish brown blob.

“What am I looking at?”

“That’s Wally! He was my first worm—dead now. Their life span is only a few months.” A tear shimmers in her eyes.

What the fuck.

“Do you need to compose yourself?” Like in the restroom—far away from me.

She shakes her head and smiles. “No, it’s fine. It’s just . . . he started the company and now we’re the most successful worm farmers in the Southwest. We owe him everything.” She munches on another breadstick. “People get squeamish about worms, but to me, they’re like people who sacrifice themselves for the greater good.”

“Uh-huh. How’s the knitting going—for the orphanage? Do you make hats or blankets?”

But it’s too late. She’s in full-on worm mode.

“ . . . slime is what we call their secretions, which is nitrogen, an important plant food . . .”

I think about the game. I consider dashing to the restroom to check the score.

“ . . . best thing to feed them is kitchen scraps. Amazing, right?”

“Totally,” I murmur.

Where the hell is the waiter? I’m waving at him.

“ . . . worms will love you if you blend their food in a mixer.” She pauses. “I’m not boring you, am I?”

“No.”

I’m saved by the waiter who’s returned. He runs down the specials. “Would you like to start with an appetizer?”

I turn to Sissy, and I can’t resist the words I say. “Escargot sound good?”

Sissy sputters—but at least she’s quiet.

I forget about my date and everything else when I see Stone walking into Paulette’s—with some dark-haired dude.

My hands clench around the menu and my nose flares in distaste.

Who the fuck is he?

I can’t think straight, and I don’t remember what Sissy or the waiter say. All I see is Stone and her companion being led through the dining area and given a table several feet away from us. I watch them talk for several minutes as my date continues lecturing about poop. Sissy let’s out a laugh, and Stone’s eyes meet mine.

The entire room disappears.

Rebecca

YOU KNOW THAT pain in your chest when your heart literally stops beating? It’s exactly how I feel this evening when my eyes land on Cade’s. He’s here, in Paulette’s, with another woman, another completely different woman, who is also completely gorgeous. I’m pissed and angry and hurt, and I really want the ground to open and for him to fall right down the crack and burst into flames.

But let me back up to earlier today . . .

After spending the most amazing time with him this morning, watching him work with inner-city kids, coaching them and encouraging them, I’d fallen for Cade in a completely new way. He’s not just sweet to his family, he and his football buddy Hart are really dedicated to helping these kids break the cycle of poverty and disenfranchisement surrounding them. They’re heroes.

Kevin has so much amazing footage, and I have so many great notes. I could barely take my eyes off Cade the entire morning, and not just because he’s so fucking hot in his tee, throwing passes, muscles flexing, Mr. Big swinging low in those long shorts, taunting me with dirty promises of mind-blowing orgasms.

He really cares, and it’s so refreshing and so sexy. At one point, he’d caught my eye and given me a wink. It was my signature move, and it made me laugh. It made my entire body warm, and I’d returned to my apartment with rainbow clouds floating around my head and dreams of white picket fences and little dark-haired boys playing with their daddy.

It’s ridiculous, I know, but I’m pretty sure I ovulated more than once this morning.

“Girl, you need to get in here and get ready.” Chas is at the door waiting. “Your date is tonight at eight.”

“Tonight!” I shriek, all dreams of having Cade’s babies gone. “What have you done?”

“Apparently, clicking make contact means Wonder Hookup Powers Activate!” She’s leading me to my bedroom and tearing through the hangers in my closet. “Look at all these wire hangers. Mommie Dearest would be apoplectic.”

“I’m having second thoughts about Phil—”

“No!” Chas looks over her shoulder at me, eyes wide. “You can’t blow him off or he’ll leave a bad review and you’ll be ostracized.”

Now I’m pissed. “You go out with him!” I sit on my bed, slamming my hands beside me.

My roommate turns and levels her gaze on me. “Now you know good and well Whiteboard Phil would stroke out if all this fabulousness met him at the door. He might anyway. You are the tit-tular queen of Houston.”

“Not. Funny.” It’s just short of a growl, and Chas’s shoulders drop.

She crosses the room to sit beside me on the bed. “I confess, I might have accidentally accelerated this one.” Reaching up, she slides my hair behind my shoulder. “I’m not familiar with this site. All my hookups are on Grindr, and it’s very clear what’s happening and when.”

“We just have to call him and let him know we had a technological glitch. We didn’t understand how the program operated.”

Chas’s face brightens, and she gives me a dazzling smile. “Does this mean you’re going to start dating that sexy sportscaster? It will be so nice having him around the place.”

That weight pulls through my chest again, and my chin drops. In spite of my revelation this morning, none of my reasons for maintaining distance have changed.

“No,” I say quietly.

“Then I don’t understand. Why would you crush poor Whiteboard Phil’s dreams if you’re just going to sit at home and date no one?”

Here we go. “I’m not crushing his dreams. He doesn’t even know me.”

My roommate’s eyes narrow. “Have you seen Whiteboard Phil? Trust me, Rebecca Fieldstone will be the highlight of his life.” She rolls out life as if it’s the Lipsync for Your Life round of Drag Race.

“It will not,” I grumble.

All I get is The Look.

“Stop it, Chassy. I’m not going out with Phil. It’s just mean.”

My roommate’s voice changes to patient instruction. “Buttercup, you don’t understand the point of dating apps. You get twelve new possible dates a day. It’s all about getting out there, enjoying life, embracing the possibilities!”

“Using all the colors in the crayon box?”

“That’s it!” Chas claps. “Now get in there and get gorgeous!”

With a sigh, I go to the closet.

The nice thing about Hookup4Luv is I’m meeting Whiteboard Phil at the restaurant. Paulette’s is actually a classy French bistro, which is a check mark in the good column for Phil. The only problem is I don’t see him anywhere.

“Do you have a reservation?” The perky, black-clad hostess looks up at me with a smile, and her face instantly changes. “Have we met before?”

Shit shit shit! I’m sure she recognizes me from that stupid YouTube clip of Pixie dragging my boob out, but she hasn’t put two and two together yet.

Moving us right along. I slide my hand down the front of my red silk dress and clear my throat. “I’m meeting someone named Phil Byars? Is he here yet?”