Page 19 of What Happened Last Night

“Will—”

“You won’t hear from her,” I said, trying to tamp down the panic in my voice. “Not for a while, anyway. I’ll make sure of it. Please don’t worry about it again.”

She hitched a deep sigh, and my mind went back to the consignment store I’d gone to this afternoon, a store I’d never usually enter. Yet I’d gone in, and I’d wandered in the women’s section, looking at the clothes. Thinking, Luna would love this place. I’d seen something that was very much her style, and my impulse had been to buy it for her as a gift, but at the last minute, I’d stopped myself.

Employee. With boyfriend.

It had been so perfect, though. I had wanted to buy it so badly, and not just because I needed to apologize to my assistant for dragging her into my messy life. I had just wanted to see her face when she opened it. That smile.

“All right,” she said slowly, unaware that my entire nervous system was going haywire with every word. “I’ll take your word for it, boss.”

“Thank you,” I said, my shoulders heavy with relief. Belatedly, I realized what time it was. This was supposed to be a business call, but we’d barely talked business at all. “I’m sorry I took up so much of your evening.”

“Oh, it’s no problem.” She waved her hands, motioning around. “You can see how busy I am. Project Boyfriend is not going well.”

I frowned. “Why is your boyfriend a project?”

She laughed that laugh that had emotion behind it. “The project is to get a boyfriend, Will. Because I’m thirty and I’m becoming a cliché. If this was a Hallmark movie, I’d move back to Bend and have a meet cute with a burly guy in a sweater who runs a Christmas tree farm.”

She’d lost me. “What?”

She shook her head. “Never mind. Let’s just say that it turns out boyfriends don’t materialize in your living room while you sit at home in your pajamas, which means life isn’t fair.”

This conversation had veered into dangerous territory, but it was late, it was FaceTime, and we’d already veered too hard into my personal life. “I didn’t know you were single,” I said. “You give off a have-a-boyfriend vibe.”

“I do?” She sat up straight, her eyes going wide.

“You very much do,” I admitted. “I just assumed he existed. I also assumed I would dislike him intensely.”

“Oh, you would not like my ex-boyfriends.” She warmed to the topic. Our conversations were usually peppered with careful dodges, steps, and apologies, like two people doing a formal dance in a Jane Austen novel. I liked seeing this side of her. “Let’s see,” she said as I felt myself smiling. “There have been three boyfriends of note. I am not counting drunk makeout sessions in my early twenties.”

“Please don’t,” I agreed. “Those are best forgotten.”

Luna counted on her fingers. “First was the high school boyfriend. I thought he was the greatest thing to have ever existed. He was a skateboarder and grew his hair in a sort of side bang that fell over one eye.” She illustrated with her hand, placing it over her forehead and her eye. “It was dreamy.”

“Teenage punk,” I said. “Mostly harmless, but also useless. It’s a no from me. Next.”

“Early twenties boyfriend.” Luna counted a second finger. “I thought the teenage breakup had hardened me into a mature woman of the world. He was two years older than me, really good looking, and his jokes were mean, which I thought meant he was edgy and not just a jerk. He was an investment guy.”

“A finance bro?” I groaned loudly. “Luna.”

“You know him?” she asked.

“Know him? I’ve met dozens of him. Those guys are like dandelions in my world.” I shook my head. “Let me guess. He talked a good game about being great in bed, but never delivered. He deeply believed he should have his own podcast. He never stopped checking out other women. Random things would make him irrationally angry.”

Her jaw had dropped open. “Will. That was uncanny.”

“Please tell me you dated him for two months, tops, and then you dumped his ass.”

She winced. “I am embarrassed to say that he fooled me for nine months.”

“Not ideal, but at least you got out.” I motioned with my hand. “Next.”

“Okay. Late twenties boyfriend.” She had settled into the sofa, her posture completely relaxed. “This is a tough one, Will. My mother believed I should marry him.”

“I reserve judgment,” I said. “Proceed.”

“On the plus side, he was employed, had his own apartment, and was interested in a relationship. Wasn’t ready for marriage and kids yet, but wasn’t against the idea.”

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