Page 7 of Caught Stealing

“All right, ladies. There’s no need for hostility. Let’s cross the street and go to Delmonico’s. It’s cheap and delicious.” I link my arm with Carmen’s to ensure she doesn’t shove Josie in front of traffic while Amelia trails along beside us. Josie brings up the rear, apologizing.

“I really am sorry. They were not clear about the year wait. Who books out that far anyway? What if something happened? What if the building burned down, then what?”

“Morbid much?” Ameila asks. “It’s fine. We’ll have pizza and spaghetti with massive meatballs.”

“Now you’re singing my song,” I say, pleased to have comfort food instead of overpriced, undersized mushrooms stuffed with things I can’t even pronounce.

Inside of Delmonico’s, Rafael seats us and hands out menus. “It’s been a long time since we’ve seen all four of you together. How are things?” he asks. Rafael is the owner’s son who flirts with us every time we come in, but his inability to secure a date is thanks to the fact that he flirts with all but the single woman in the group.

“Things have been crazy busy at work,” Amelia says and slides into the booth. “How are things here?”

“Uh, good. Good. A little pick up in business with the summer. What can I get you all to drink?”

We place our drink and food orders because we always get the same things, then settle in to wait and dish the details of our lives.

“Is it bad that I’m worried about Nick home alone with the kids?” Josie asks, checking her phone. Her blonde hair waves around her face and stops abruptly at her chin. Only she could pull off a wavy, short cut like that. The rest of us would look like giant mushroom heads. Her blue eyes fill with worry for her husband and kids.

“He’s the most responsible person I’ve ever met. I’m sure he’s doing just fine,” I say, encouraging her.

Carmen checks her phone for good measure, but if her husband can’t manage their one child, we have bigger issues than Josie reserving a bistro for a year out. On the plus side, at least I have a year to prepare. The introvert in me throws a party.

“Alex took the kids to his parents’ house for the night. My guess is that he doesn’t feel like cooking,” Amelia says with a knowing laugh. Her husband is kind and generous, but he can also burn water. Amelia glances toward the bar where Rafael fills our drinks, her auburn hair slipping over her shoulder. “You should ask him out, Lottie. I’m positive he will say yes, and bonus, he’s not an athlete. He’s an entrepreneur who makes amazing food.”

“Um, no. He’s not my type for sure. He’s a nice guy, but a bit young for me.”

She shrugs, turning her brown eyes back to me. “Eight years. I guess that is a lot when you’re thirty and he’s twenty-two.”

“Gee, make me feel older by doing the math, why don’t you?” I toss a straw at her but it doesn’t get far.

Rafael, who, incidentally, is quite a hunky Italian, delivers our drinks, giving me a chance to pull my lip balm from my purse. Savannah summers are harsh on my pale skin, and my lips suffer. Along with my lip balm, the business card Destiny gave me falls onto the table. Carmen snatches the black card before I have a chance to hide it.

“What is this? A dating app?” She raises her eyebrows, her brown eyes locked on mine. She’s a lie detector, so there’s no reason to bother trying to hide it or make up a story. Not that I’d want to lie to her anyway, but at the moment, it seems better than admitting that a friend from work thinks I should go on a weird dating app to meet a man just because it worked for her.

“It’s something Destiny from work gave me. I’m not going to use it. I just didn’t have a chance to throw it out yet.” I brush it off while the ladies pass the card around like a trophy, inspecting it.

“It only lists a website and has an access number. That’s odd,” Amelia says. “Aren’t you even a little curious?”

“Nope. Not a bit. Actually, I’m not even supposed to talk about it, so if you could forget about it, that would be great. Now, can we get back to—”

“Oh, come on. Obviously, we’re not the only ones who think it’s time you moved on from your piece of trash ex.” Carmen hands me the card with a pointed stare before brushing her black hair over her shoulder. “You should at least look into it.”

“That’s a big fat no,” I say and snatch the card back. I toss it across the table so Rafael can take it to the trash where it belongs. “I’m not putting my dating life in the hands of complete strangers, okay?”

A round of eye rolls seems to end the conversation. Rafael brings our food and we fall into pleasant conversation about work life and family before paying our checks. As usual, the owner brings us free desert to go. The tiramisu won’t stand a chance once I get home.

“We need to get together more often. Can we shoot for once a month?” Josie asks. It’s easy enough for two of us to get together at a time, but for all four of us to synch our schedules is almost impossible.

“Summer break is coming, so I’ll have more free time,” I say, holding out hope that this time our promise to spend more time together rings true. But with kids in the picture, it isn’t likely to. I completely understand my friends’ need to be a parent first, but sometimes jealousy picks at me. I’d love to have a doting husband and a few kids like them, but it’s getting there that’s the problem.

Rory was supposed to be my one. He was the guy I was sure I would spend forever with, but he betrayed me. He walked away from three good years for a woman he hardly knew. It couldn’t have been that good if he could walk away so easily, but for me, they had been perfect. Clearly, I missed the signs. I was oblivious, and that kind of pain isn’t easily repaired, I don’t care how many months have passed.

We make rough plans to meet again in a few weeks and I head home to finally snuggle with Ginger, tiramisu in hand.

Once there, I flop on the sofa and open the take-out container just as my phone dings again. I glance down, assuming it’s one of the girls, but it’s an email alert. From a dating website. I tap on it and, sure enough, it’s the one from the card Destiny gave me.

“What the…I’m going to kill them.” I immediately call Carmen, the one most likely to commit such devious acts of tomfoolery.

“I had to do it,” she says instead of hello. “I love you, and I’m sick of seeing people break your heart. I looked over everything and they have an insanely high success rate with zero divorces. There’s a ton of security too. It’s legit, Lottie. All I’m asking is that you look it over and try it out, please?”

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