Page 84 of 13 Rules For Fantastic Phone Sex

She’s always been incredibly kind. I sniff as she gives me another squeeze.

“Can I ask one question?”

I nod, although I desperately want to say no. I know it’s going to be about him.

“This thing with Henry, can you call him and make it okay, like right now?”

“No.” Calling him doesn’t change anything. People who know me make fun of how honest I am. I returned a pen to the bank once, and I’ve gotten shit about it ever since. I thought he was one of them. I—stupidly—thought he knew me better than anyone. I was wrong.

“I thought since outside contact ceases to be a problem…”

I shake my head and sniff, desperately clinging to my dignity as tears threaten to spill. “It isn’t something that can be fixed after five. He needs someone he can trust, someone who isn’t a liar. After a year together—talking, I mean—he doesn’t trust me. That’s something that can’t be fixed.”

“Oh, honey, it’s like he never even knew you,” she says, concern and pain flitting over her warm expression. “Or your honesty, your altruism, your incredible generosity with everything that isn’t money. If I could make things right for you, I would. I would’ve encouraged you to call him months ago if I had known this would happen.”

Coming from Anastascia, this is a tremendous gift of friendship after our stalker creep incident. And that almost makes me cry, but my tears have been used up.

5:00 p.m. hits after a New Year’s–style countdown, and as the phones fall silent, we gather around a better-than-sex cake that we’re temporarily calling a better-than-phone-sex cake and snarf down a wide variety of naughty carbs.

The transition is official. Everyone who tries to call us in the future will be rerouted to California Girls. I feel bad for my regulars because Kait is as dead as a girl who runs up the stairs in a horror movie. No great loss. We make the announcement, break the news that this is a goodbye in a bigger sense than me heading off to school, and soften the blow with generous bonus checks and paperwork to continue working for California Girls. It’s a win for them—they keep their jobs and get a fat unexpected check.

I take an Uber home because my presence is a downer. The checks are big enough to soothe any sting our employees may feel. Everyone is chipper, excited about the new opportunity. I’m still tipsy when Jessica gets home. I’m pliable, so she sits me down in front of her laptop and starts the girlfriend experience episode. One guy whines about how he bought what was probably great sex, and I realize the things Henry was saying make total sense in the context of this asshat getting dumped by the escort he was stalking.

When I see Marin on the screen, looking like the goddess that she is, I’m still drunk enough to be giggly. “OMG, do you remember when Marin’s series came out, and like a month later, she ran from her cubby, and she looked green? She leaned against the wall and said, ‘I knew there would be guys jerking off to my photos, but I never thought I would have to talk to him while he did it. He kept saying how hot he thought the Marine girl was. Marine! Like I’m a porpoise or wearing camouflage or something.’”

I’ve never laughed so hard in my life as I did that day.

Jess makes me watch Tony—surprisingly attractive—tell the world to stay away from me. Tony’s doing a public service, warning people about Kaits everywhere. He’s not wrong. We might have been friends if we had met some other way.

My mouth is literally hanging open watching Tony talk. Whiney man says, “I tried to end it, and that was when she said, ‘I love you.’”

Got it. Now I understand. Just like that, I’m officially back to my favorite stage of grief: anger.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

HENRY

I drag my sorry ass home from my birthday escape with my brothers, and the darkness of my bedroom is a gut punch it didn’t occur to me to expect. I can’t remember the last time my Kait lamp wasn’t a soft, warm glow welcoming me home. From the day I opened the box, it’s been a constant reminder of her affection for me. Now, the darkness is unrelenting. I touch the lamp to turn it on, knowing hers will turn on too, if it’s not in a dumpster. A silent message that I’m thinking of her. Please call me. To forgive me.

It’s my favorite gift from her, now one more reminder that I’ve ruined a good thing. I leave it on as I doze, the gentle glow soothing, even though I had to turn it on myself. I toss and turn in fitful, restless chunks until I’m wide-awake at four. I try to doze but fail. I give up and head to the office early, before the sun lights the morning sky.

“Good morning, Henry! Happy belated birthday to you…” Julian sounds like a cat being mauled when he sings, bouncing into the office like he’s spring-loaded. “What did you do for your birthday weekend?”

Why is he so happy? I want to tape his face hole shut. And why does he have to smile so much?

“They took me to Isle Royale National Park. We flew to Michigan, then took a seaplane to the island and back.” Going to the national park has been on my bucket list for years, but I never knew there was no cell service on most of the island.

“Is that for me?” I tilt my head toward the package leaning against his half of our partner’s desk, beautifully wrapped, complete with ribbon.

“This thing wrapped with a giant red bow and a card that says ‘Henry’?”

I reach for the package, thin and about twenty-four inches by thirty-six, and he swats my hand.

“What?”

“Not now,” Julian says. “Later, if you’re a good boy.”

“Fine.” I’m not in a mood to care, so I sit back and watch as Julian throws himself into an effort to sanitize our already tidy office. He cleans the glass, dusts, does the Swiffer thing on the century-old hardwood, all while harassing me to clean my desk. Rather than refuse and have to hear about it, I organize my desk and files, but my thoughts are on Kait. All I want is to hear her voice again. I put in my earbuds and play an old voicemail. I never deleted a single voicemail she left me, so I have all kinds of salt for my wounds. I don’t have the courage to listen to the last one she left for me, so I poke my phone to start an old favorite.