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“Wait, isn’t your date with him tomorrow?”
“Yes. This was an impromptu thing. He had to bring flowers to the apartment I did a staging for.”
“Oh, yes,” he said, only now remembering that I’d told him this. “So he was there and you had a late lunch.”
“I’m not sure eating at six o’clock at night could be called a late lunch.”
“Okay, sure,” he said, sounding a little annoyed. “And how was your... dinner?”
I twirled the paper flower between my thumb and forefinger, smiling at it. “Cory, I think I’ve met the man I’m going to marry.”
Silence.
More silence.
“I’m sorry, what? Marry. You want to get married? Since when?”
“Since him. He’s perfect. He couldn’t be more perfect.”
“What did he do to you during dinner? Did he blow you at the table?”
I snorted. “No! That’s just it. We talked. And I gave him a sweet little peck on his lips and then we said goodbye. He was just the cutest, and oh my god, Cory.” I shook my head. “I don’t even know what to say. I can’t even describe it. He’s just...”
“Mr Perfect.”
“Yes!”
Cory sighed. “Well, he does have a perfect name.”
“I know! He made me a paper flower from the serviette on the table. After all the flower talk we’ve had, he made me one that can never die.”
He made a noise that might have been a gag. “Well, that does sound kinda perfect. So when do I get to meet him?”
I grimaced, grateful he couldn’t see. “I’ll let you know after tomorrow.”
“So you still have the big date with him tomorrow?”
“Yes. It’s starting with a coffee.”
“And leading to . . .”
“I don’t know. I hope so? Is it too soon after Jason? I don’t want Keats to think he’s a rebound, because he’s not.”
“When is it too soon to be happy? It’s never too soon. You should have nevernotbeen happy, and the fact you were not happy is Jason’s fault, not Keats’ fault. So you be happy all you damn want.”
I smiled, feeling better about that already. “Thank you.”
“And if your date tomorrow goes terrible, just remember I’m going out tomorrow night and you can come with me and we’ll find you a tall, dark, and handsome stallion to take your mind off things, okay?”
I laughed. “Okay.”
He was quiet for a second. “For what it’s worth, I hope it does go well. Even if it means you won’t be my wingman anymore and I’ll have to slut it up by myself, I hope he’s as perfect as you think he is.”
This was why he was my best friend. “Thank you. And I’ll always be your wingman. As long as I’m home before midnight and sober.”
“My god, you are old. You sure you don’t want to call my Aunty Cath for tips and pointers on how to live your best middle-aged-lesbian life?”
“I actually wouldn’t mind, and if I ever need to go to Bunnings or IKEA, I can take her instead of you.”
