Three Months Later

“Seriously, woman. When was the last time you got yourself L-A-I-D?” Audrey spelled out right there in the middle of our office. Holy Hannah, the woman had no filter. Not to mention her twins, Nick and Levi, who were currently playing tag, were nearly of age to figure out her code.

Audrey was the wife of our manager, Murray. She told it like it was and took no prisoners, which was hilarious when aimed at her husband. Perhaps less so when directed at you.

I raised an eyebrow. “I do all right for myself, thank you very much.” Which was a total freaking lie. It had been months since I did the nasty with someone. Three months to be more precise. Dry spells happened, but this last one was self-imposed. I swore to myself that I wasn’t going to get involved with any more senseless, meaningless, going nowhere relationships. Then I had a one-night stand with my ride-share app driver.

It was a slip, a bleep, a minor infraction. I tried not to even count it. Except when I thought about him. Which was every day and every night. Especially the nights. That man was extremely talented in the bedroom department. He’d more than left a lasting impression, believe me.

When I asked him to leave the next day, I actually felt bad. The look on his face still gutted me. I think he genuinely assumed we’d be more than a one-night stand. He was young. Like ten years or more younger than me. At thirty-seven, I was running out of time.

Women of a certain age eventually had to stop fooling around and start looking for a serious relationship if they wanted a family. Every night when I looked in the mirror, it depressed me to think I’d wasted another day and was that much closer to Doomsday, the day when my remaining eggs just shriveled up and died.

That was why I kicked the bright-eyed, mischievous boy out of my bed, even though there was nothing more in this world that I would rather have done than fool around with him for a while. I had my diminishing eggs to think about. See? Depressing.

Nobody knew that I wanted a family—it wasn’t something I ever spoke about. Well, except for Dean, my boss at Brentford Organics, a food/produce supply company that I’d worked at for years. I was their salesperson and I did quite well if I said so myself. Even though Dean was my boss, he’d also evolved into my friend and confidant.

“We should have a girls’ night out to find Vivienne a man.” Harper practically bounced on her chair. “It’s been ages since we’ve all been out together.” Harper was our administrative assistant. She was great, even though she’d recently found her Mr. Right. His name was Jack. Jack was a successful restaurateur, tall, dark, and handsome, and the man could cook. I mean, of course, he could. He was a chef. Truth be told, I was a little jealous of their relationship.

Never would I begrudge them their happiness. It was hard fought. Harper’s ex-husband nearly beat Jack to death one night a couple of months ago. It all turned out okay in the end, but it was one of the most frightening things I’d ever heard. The fact that it all happened to people I knew made it even scarier.

“It’s been ages because someone just wants to stay home with her shit-hot boyfriend instead of going out with her girls anymore,” Audrey said in an accusatory tone, waving her deep, golden brown finger at Harper.

“Who could blame her?” I added because it was true. She’d found her happily ever after and was enjoying the heck out of him.

“Not me, that’s for damn sure. That man gives me an all over body flush every time I see him,” Audrey chimed back.

Harper frowned. “You guys need to stop talking about my boyfriend. Enough already. Sheesh. Audrey, what if Murray hears you calling my boyfriend hot?”

A deep exhale was heard from Murray’s door. “Too late. Audrey talks at length to me about Jack’s hotness,” he said, rolling his eyes. “My wife has no shame.”

“Why should I?” Audrey answered back. “You need to take cooking lessons from that man. Just think of all the things you could make me.”

“Mom’s got girlses’ night again, Dad. Auntie Vivienne’s gotta trap a husband before she gets scrambled eggs,” Nick said, always ready to inform his father, or anyone else for that matter.

“No, stupid, before her eggs get dried up.” Levi rebutted, smacking his brother on the head.

“Owww, Mom,” Nick cried at top volume to his mother who was currently all of four feet away.

“Boys, stop, or no electronics for the rest of the day,” Murray said in his best dad voice while manhandling his five year old spawn away from each other.

“Good Lord, don’t threaten that. Are you crazy? How am I supposed to get a moment’s peace if they ain’t got video games? Leave it to a man who’s gone all day to say such helpful things,” Audrey said in her best don’t-mess-with-my-electronic-babysitter voice.

Luckily, Murray chose his battles well. He quickly turned around, then marched back to his office without a word.

“Men.” Audrey shook her head, throwing her hands up in the air.

“There’s a new steakhouse that just opened up. How about we start there? Maybe see how the evening unfolds?” Harper said as she gathered important papers on her desk that the twins were trying to make into paper airplanes.

“I’m fine, really. You guys don’t need to,” I began, but Audrey cut me off.

“Girl, we know it’s your birthday coming up. We were tryin’ to make it a surprise. The surprise will be on us if you don’t show up to your own party. Thirty-seven is a big milestone for a woman. You’ve got no man, no kids, and that big ol’ house all by your lonesome. Only a hot man can help you fill it up, so we’re gonna help you out with that,” Audrey lectured, shaking her finger at me like I was one of her errant children.

Shit, I didn’t realize they knew my birthday was around the corner. I guess Harper could have easily found out my age. Don’t get me wrong. I wasn’t embarrassed about how old I was. But I still blushed a bit at Audrey’s words. Apparently, I hadn’t fooled anyone by not sharing my desire for a family.

“I love my house. Plus, I got a great deal on it. The architecture drew me in, not a need for a family,” I said, trying my best to deflect the attention from my formerly secret intentions.

“Mmhmm, I don’t think so. No smart, sexy businesswoman buys a fixer-upper like that except to stuff it full of kids,” Audrey said, eyebrows raised. “Smart, sexy, single businesswomen who don’t want kids buy brand new digs in our area of town.” Murray and Audrey bought and built in the newest development in Santa Lena, California. It was a beautiful home, but it lacked soul.

Harper cleared her throat in an attempt to change the subject. “Saturday work for everyone? I can be the designated driver.”

Audrey shooed her suggestion away with one hand. “Let’s meet at the birthday girl’s house and call a car from there. No reason for anyone to miss out on the fun. Invite Riley, too. She’s always good to have around in case we end up in trouble of some kind.” The woman spoke the truth. Riley, Harper’s neighbor and friend, had a sixth sense with ninja skills to boot. How she’d learned those skills working at a law office, we had no idea.

“Sounds good to me,” I lied, wishing instead for a quiet night in front of the television, drowning the sorrow of one more year with no husband or children in a pint or two of ice cream.

Not the ideal way to spend a Saturday evening, but every so often, it was fun to connect with other drivers. No one else could commiserate with you quite as much as someone who knew the biz.

“…and the fucking sand those slobs left behind in my car was unbelievable,” Leon said, shaking his head. “My car smelled like seaweed for a week.”

“I hate beach calls. The money is great, but the cleanup isn’t worth it,” I said, agreeing with him.

“Change of subject, before I get even hotter under the collar,” Leon said, adding a fifth creamer to his coffee. It was more like a dessert than coffee now. “Tell me about your latest female escapade. I gotta live vicariously through you.” He looked up, giving me a half-grin, ready for whatever I had to give him.

Surprisingly, I had nothing to offer him, other than tales of me and my right hand in the shower. I figured he likely knew those stories all too well. “I’ve got nothing for you, buddy,” I said, shrugging my shoulders.

An odd scowl replaced his former grin. “You holding out on me? Come on, a young stud like you must have some good stories since the last time I saw ya.”

That was the thing. Normally, I had a story or two to share. “Nah, dry spell, I guess,” I lied, grabbing my soda. Truth be told, there was a certain curvy blonde that had taken up residence in my brain. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t evict her.

“Seriously? What the fuck?”

“I’ve been busy. No time for my usual antics,” I said, sipping my drink. What I didn’t tell Leon was that I’d come close to having some very good stories to tell, but my fucking mind wouldn’t let me. Whenever I got past the flirting stage, something in me just lost interest. That something was Mr. Woody. Lately, I’d begun calling him Mr. Limpy.

“I’m disappointed in you, man. Get your shit together and get back out there.”

Right at that moment, Leon’s phone went off, telling him of an available fare. “Ah, shit. It’s in West Gate. That area’s a crapshoot. Could be good, could be bad.”

My ears perked up when he said West Gate. Actually, so did Mr. Woody. Damn, he was temperamental. Couldn’t blame him, though. Once you’ve had filet, it was hard to go back to flank. Near fucking impossible.

Out of curiosity, and hoping against hope, I slid Leon’s phone around and peeked at the address. My heart stopped beating. I needed to get this fare. “You know, I’ll take this one if you don’t want it. I like that area.”

Leon laughed. “Yeah, right. Money’s money. I can’t afford to turn stuff down.”

Shit. I was going to have to up the ante.