Page 29 of One-Star Romance

But as they went to grab their suitcases by the front door, a car came squealing into the driveway, dirt and dust rising around it. “That sounds like Melinda,” Gabby said.

Gabby, Nat, and Angus traipsed out to the front porch, the welcoming committee. Melinda threw open the door to the car as an unfamiliar man unfolded himself from the passenger seat. “Everyone, this is Dante. My lover.” Dante had a shaved head and the build of a wrestler, but Natalie didn’t have time to register much else about him, because after a speed round of introductions and a quick tour of the cabin, Melinda and Dante ran off to the bedroom into which Nat had been planning to lug her suitcase, slamming the door behind them.

Angus, Gabby, and Natalie gawked at the closed door.

“I thought I was sharing a room with Melinda,” Nat said.

“I thought so too,” Gabby said. A grunting began from the bedroom, and the three of them backed away into the front hallway. “I’ve never heard Melinda mention a Dante before in my life.”

“Well,” Angus began, “I guess you’ll have to get cozy with—”

From outside, the sounds of crunching gravel, then a car door slam. “Rob!” Angus shouted, and flung himself out the door.

Natalie’s stomach plummeted. No. She was not about to live a romance novel trope. Couldn’t Gabby just sleep with her and Rob with Angus? But that was the thing about married friends—they didn’t see it that way anymore. Of course Gabby and Angus would share a bed, and of course they’d get the biggest one. Their marriage conferred legitimacy on them, made them the senior statespeople of their group. The true grown-ups.

Gabby nudged her and said under her breath, “You used to think he was kinda cute, right? Maybe you could have a little hanky-panky before you and Jeff go official. Live a little!”

“I think I already have lived a little.”

She’d lived a lot, actually, over the past few years. Since Conor, she’d had one other boyfriend, but it hadn’t lasted more than four months, at which point he’d revealed that his ultimate goal was to move to Alaska and have lots of children who ran around the wilderness, a life that did not appeal to her at all. (She wasn’t sure if she wanted children, but if she did, she certainly didn’t want to set them loose to roam with grizzly bears.) And somehow, without noticing it, she’d moved beyond the point where she was willing to keep dating someone if it didn’t seem like they had a future.

She’d gone out with plenty of people. There was the Christmas tree salesman who’d invited her back to his “place,” aka the van he was living out of for the month, the one in which he’d driven down all his trees. She’d found pine needles in her hair for weeks afterward. The second time they’d hooked up, he’d asked to come back to hers, and she’d realized he was more excited by her shower than by her.

Then there was the woman with whom Natalie had a glorious six-hour date, pouring out their hearts to each other. By the end of the night, Natalie had been convinced she’d met her true love, but Lily had declined Natalie’s overture for a second date after finding out that Natalie had never been in a relationship with a woman before, only had the occasional hookup. Lily couldn’t “teach another baby queer how to do everything,” and also, was Natalie actually looking for a romantic relationship with her, or did she just want someone to replace the best friend who had clearly given her some abandonment issues?

There had been the married couple Nat had gone home with, in a brief moment in which she was trying to believe she was more adventurous than she actually was. The vibes had gotten worse the moment Nat had stepped inside their apartment. It became clear that she was either going to save their marriage or ruin it, and either way, they’d hate her afterward, so when they offered her ecstasy so that they could all “loosen up a little,” she declined and slipped back out the door.

And in between, there’d been so many others: men she kissed at bars without even knowing their names, men she went on two dates with but couldn’t bring herself to kiss at all, crushes on unavailable men, people she stopped contacting, people who stopped contacting her.

“Besides,” Nat continued to Gabby, “I thought you said at the wedding that Rob didn’t do one-night stands.”

“Look, he still seems a bit formal and rigid to me. But I’d find it very entertaining if you could loosen him up.”

Nat suppressed a sigh. She was not dating for Gabby’s entertainment, even if Gabby sometimes made her feel like it.

The last time Nat had gone over to Gabby and Angus’s for dinner, they’d taken her phone and swiped through one of her dating apps for, she swore, a full half hour. They were just “so curious” to see what was out there, because they’d never had to go on the apps themselves. Gabby pronounced all her judgment on the people who popped up, swiping them away before Nat even had a chance to decide for herself.

After she’d left their apartment, they’d probably turned and held each other tightly, murmuring, “Thank God for you,” all little arguments about loading the dishwasher melting away in their gratitude.

Being the dating jester had grown exhausting. She was tired of opening every coffee with her coupled-up friends by reciting the gory details of her love life. She hated checking for a wedding ring every time she met a man, was exhausted from forcing herself to go to parties when she’d rather not just in case the love of her life might be in attendance.

And then Natalie met Jeff, who had the healthy glow of a camp counselor. (Because he had been a camp counselor for many years!) He was extremely competent, full of plans, nodding in fascination at everything she said. When setting their first date, he sent her three options of well-reviewed places at which he’d already made reservations. At the end of the night, he smiled at her with such pure happiness before leaning in to kiss her, and it was very sweet, even if part of her was calculating how much longer she’d be able to kiss him and still make her subway train.

They’d only been on three dates so far, but if things kept going the way they were—easy, nice, promising—a “define the relationship” talk was on the horizon. And if he wanted to go exclusive, to put a label on things, she would. Happily. She imagined that being able to say she had a boyfriend would feel like finally getting a good night’s sleep, something that no longer seemed like it was in store for her this weekend.

Rob and Angus walked in the front door, Angus keeping up a steady monologue while Rob carried a small rolling suitcase. He wore a short-sleeve button-down. Weren’t lakes for T-shirts? (Though, to be fair, she’d packed her cutest sundresses in anticipation of this trip. She’d lost the power by sending him those embarrassing emails, but she could at least look good.)

“Rob,” Gabby said, and walked over to give him a polite hug, the hug of two people who respected each other but weren’t particularly close.

“Thank you for having me,” he said.

And then Gabby and Angus looked at Rob and Natalie, and there was simply nothing else for them to do but acknowledge each other.

“Hi!” Nat said, far too loudly. “Wow, long time!”

“Ages,” he said.

Natalie hugged him while endeavoring to keep as much of her body from touching him as possible. As he gave her back a stiff pat—the kind of back pat an emotionally constipated father gave his son after a strong showing in his Little League game—she wanted to open up the lid of the nearby trash can and crawl inside. How much was he thinking about her email?

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