Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 78108 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78108 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
“Exactly what I was thinking.” Eleanor cackles. “What about you, Monroe? Would you have bet on that first date of mine going the distance?”
“Absolutely. I had a feeling way back when that you’d be glad you went for it with him,” Monroe says with a warm smile that’s different from the smirks he slings my way. But that’s fine. I don’t expect him to needle listeners like he needles me. “Now, be sure to have a good time. And that’s the doctor’s orders.”
“I will,” Eleanor says. “And you two should be sure to enjoy yourselves.”
She must mean on the show, so I add, “We always do.”
We take a few more calls from listeners who mostly say encouraging things about my ExtraDate prospect, and then it’s a wrap. Once we’re no longer recording, I push back from the table and gather my things. Sadie tells Monroe she has some listener emails to review with him. That’s his area, whereas I focus more on social media marketing, which means I’m free to go.
“I don’t have any clients till four, so I’ve got some time,” Monroe tells Sadie.
“Great.” Then she turns to me. “Good luck tonight. I’m rooting for you. But I hope he doesn’t talk about wine because that sounds snooze-inducing.”
Time to play my ace. “Elijah and I will have no wine talk! It’s going to be so fun. We’re going to Zelda and Nico’s Cheese Experience. It’s reserved seating and ours is at eight, so yeah. The date is totally going to last more than an hour.”
No one leaves the cheese experience early. It’s legendary. Maybe I played dirty, holding this Gouda and cheddar intel back. But I don’t care. Let Monroe eat his words when my date goes ExtraDate. Combo date. Extend-a-date.
But the cocky man just scoffs. “Doesn’t matter. It’s not going anywhere. You only do first dates these days.”
I fume, my brow pinching. “It’s not my fault! I keep getting bad matches.”
Monroe holds my gaze for a good, long beat, his bedroom eyes taking me in, roaming up and down until I wonder if Sadie should even be in the room. “Or maybe you don’t pick the right guys,” he says.
Nope. Not true. But I let him have the last word because I have something better coming.
A great date. I just know it.
I leave on a cloud of hope.
That’s the only way to move through this prickly, harrowing modern dating world. Otherwise, it’ll eat your soul for breakfast and barf it out like a cat yakking up a hairball.
2
IT’S A CUTTHROAT WORLD
Juliet
Is there anything better than cheese? Okay, fine. There are dogs, cats, orgasms, chocolate, good music, a steaming cup of tea, a soft scarf, and nights with friends.
But cheese is up there in life’s top ten things. So tonight will be great because it’s a cheese date.
I’m getting ready for it on FaceTime with my older sister from my cute little apartment in Hayes Valley. Mustache perches on the bathroom sink, tail twitching, eyes following my movements as I slick on some lipstick.
He’s kind of into me.
“I have a good feeling about this one,” I tell Rachel as I set down the tube then blot my lips on a tissue.
“Because you’re the world’s most optimistic breakup-party planner.” Rachel is puttering around, watering plants in the home she shares with her husband.
“Just because I plan parties that celebrate a relationship’s end doesn’t mean I can’t find love myself.” I fluff out my brown waves and strike a pose to show off my red top and jeans, accessorized with platform sandals and a necklace with a ladybug charm Rachel gave me for my birthday last year. I went through a major ladybug phase when I was a kid. I still like them, which is lucky because family never lets you forget your childhood obsession.
“How do I look?” I ask.
“Younger than me, dammit,” she faux grumbles as she looks me over.
I roll my eyes. “Like you’re old.”
“Older than you.”
“Which you’ve wielded to your advantage every day of my life.”
She waves me off. “Go. Have fun. I can’t wait for the date report. But send me your location. Do you want me to call you in thirty minutes for an SOS?”
“Nope.” I shake my head, certain I won’t need a lifeline tonight.
We say goodbye, and I give Mustache a well-deserved scratch on the chin—one of only two acceptable cat quadrants for petting, even for a cat who’s into me—then take off for the Thursday evening cheese-tasting extravaganza at the wine bar a few blocks away.
Zelda and Nico’s Cheese Experience takes place behind the heavy brushed-metal doors of an industrial-style establishment, with exposed pipes and brick walls, servers in leather aprons, and some kind of music with ukuleles in it playing softly overhead.
Of course.
I scan the place, looking for Elijah from the app. Doesn’t take long to find the graffiti artist waiting by the bar, wearing a black scarf and horn-rimmed glasses. He looks almost like his photo but a few years older. Okay, maybe ten. Or possibly a dozen.