Kami

Forget butterflies. An entire herd of spooked antelope has taken up residence in my belly.

I’m at the bar in a farm-to-table restaurant in the Mulvaney Hill district, in an ivory sweater, knee-high boots, and a black pencil skirt that must’ve shrunk in my closet, because I have to keep tugging it down and sucking in my belly.

I’m waiting for my date.

And I keep waiting for Nick to walk in and sit down at the table across from me and make kissy lips at me. That’s right, baby. You could have me and Little Nicky all night instead of that loser with the pictures of his pet hamster from when he was a kid who keeps staring at your boobs and asking if you wax your cooch.

I shake my head and text Muffy a picture of my boots to distract myself from letting the Nick in my head trash-talk my date before he even gets here, sighing when I realize my phone is once again at forty percent battery. I have got to quit putting off getting a new phone.

Kami: Are these too much? Do they say “I want you to fuck me tonight,” or do they say “I’m putting my best foot forward?”

Muffy: Holy shit. Those are awesome. Can I borrow them the next time I need to crush a dude’s balls? Those spiky heels will do some serious damage. And I love the fur top. Real cheetah?

Kami: Of course not! It’s fake. And they’re a size six. And you didn’t answer my question.

Muffy: They say “I want to live in Muffy’s closet.”

Kami: Your feet are three sizes bigger.

Muffy: That’s never stopped me before.

Kami: William is late. William, right? Did he ghost me? Do you think he showed up and saw desperation written in my face and decided to sneak into the coat closet for a quickie with the hostess instead?

Muffy: Stop fretting. He’ll be there. He has a bum leg from his time in the Army.

Kami: So you’re saying he probably wouldn’t be comfortable having a quickie with the hostess in a coat closet?

Muffy: Definitely. He’d have to take her back to the kitchen and throw her on a prep table. But he’s not going to do that because he’s a very nice gentleman who was very excited when I called to ask him if he’d like to take you out. Deep breath, sweetie. You’re going to have a wonderful evening. And I call dibs on maid of honor. I don’t care how much you love your sister. You owe me.

I quit texting because I’m down to thirty percent battery now, and I blow out a slow breath and glance around the restaurant. Everything’s warm honey colors with fresh herbs decorating the tables in mason jars. There’s a beanie or fedora and a beard at almost every table, and there’s an argument going on two stools down from me over which environmental engineering firm in Copper Valley is most likely to win the contract for upgrading City Hall.

It’s classic Copper Valley outside the hockey zone.

There’s a table near the front window where a young couple is feeding avocado toast to their toddler. Those big brown eyes and black curls tug at something deep in my belly. He smiles a toothy green grin, showing off his food, and both his parents smile and shake their heads. Mom leans in to wipe his mouth, and the little guy smushes avocado into her mouth.

It should be gross, but it’s adorable. And sweet. And perfect.

And everything I want in my future.

“Kami?” a rough voice asks.

I look up to see an elderly gentleman with a shock of white hair and a cane peering at me over his glasses. He’s in a stained pink polo and khaki pants, and if he grew a beard, he’d look like Santa Claus with that bright pink nose.

“Hi,” I say hesitantly. “Can I help you?”

His brown eyes light up. “Muffy said you were pretty, but she didn’t say you were this pretty.”

I blink once.

Then twice.

“M-muffy?” I repeat.

He winks. “Didn’t tell you how experienced I am, did she? I’m William. And it’s my pleasure to be on the arm of a live one tonight. You wanna blow this hippie joint and go get some oysters?”

It takes me a full three breaths to find words. “Um, yes. But can you excuse me for a minute? I need to use the restroom.”

“You’re not plannin’ on disappearing out the window, are you? Muffy promised me you’re not the disappearing type.”

“No, I really do just need to use the restroom.” And call Muffy and chew her out.

He frowns, and my heart squeezes. I wonder how many times he’s been left behind.

If Muffy’s in charge of his dates, undoubtedly too many.

“I can use the restroom at the oyster bar,” I tell him.

His face lights up, wrinkles and all. He looks down at my feet and whistles. “Yeah, you’re dressed up good for the oyster bar. Right this way, darlin’.”

I slide a twenty onto the bar to pay for my kombucha, then take William’s arm and let him lead me out of the restaurant.

And then I have to readjust his hand when it slips to my ass.

“You like to dance?” he asks me.

“I do.”

“Oooh, honey, that’s a good thing, because I sure do like to watch.”

Then again, maybe his problem isn’t that Muffy’s in charge of his dates.

“I used to watch my late wife dance in the kitchen all the time,” he adds.

And there goes my heart squeezing for him again. “I’m sorry for your loss,” I say instead while we navigate around a group of teenagers taking up the whole sidewalk.

“Eh, better her than me.” His hand slips to my ass again, and I sigh as I once again right it.

Muffy is going to die.