Once and for All(58)

“Louna,” I said.

“She’s the girl I met at work, the one I told you about,” Leo explained. “And this is . . .”

“Ambrose,” Ambrose said, offering his own hand. He was looking right at her, of course; full attention, focused. “And this is Ira.”

“Hello, Ira,” Lauren said, crouching down to pet him. “Aren’t you a handsome boy?”

“He takes after me,” Ambrose told her. I rolled my eyes.

Lauren got back to her feet, then gave Leo a friendly punch to the arm. “You jerk. You didn’t tell me you’d be here when I said how I was dreading it earlier.”

“I didn’t know it was the same party,” he told her.

“I’m newly single,” Lauren explained to me. Ambrose, hearing this, visibly increased his attention level. “And Leo’s been on me to try to get back out there and date. But it’s hard.”

“I know it,” I told her. “I’m in the same boat. My best friend basically had to drag me here.”

“Then you get it!” She sighed, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear, which was studded with a row of gold and diamond hoops. I’d never seen anyone so, well . . . shimmery. “Once you get dumped, the last thing you want is to offer up your heart again, right?”

“Someone dumped you?” Ambrose asked, aghast. “What are they, crazy?”

In response, Lauren smiled gratefully. “You’re sweet. And, well, yes. We were together for four years.”

“And had known each other since kindergarten, where we met,” Leo added. “We were the Fearsome Threesome on the playground.”

“Never date one of your best friends,” Lauren said to me. “When it ends, you lose so much more than a boyfriend. It sucks.”

On this last word, her voice broke a bit, and she smiled, embarrassed. Leo put his arm around her, and she put her head on his shoulder. “Patrick’s a doofus. You’ll find someone else. Someone better.”

“Which I guess is why I’m here,” she said with a sigh. “I’ll stay for one beer. Then I’m going home to get into bed and eat ice cream.”

“That sounds like a plan,” Ambrose said. He reached over, grabbing a red cup and filling it, then presented it with a flourish. “Personally, I like Rocky Road after a bad breakup. It’s like a metaphor, fitting.”

“Thanks,” she said. “Lately I’ve been mainlining rainbow sherbet. I was hoping it had antidepressant powers.”

“Just avoid the chocolate peanut butter or pralines and cream. Too couply for the newly single.”

“That’s good advice,” she said.

“Ambrose was just leaving,” I told her.

“Only because I had no reason to stay,” he said. “Now we’re talking ice cream, so I do.”

Lauren blushed slightly, then looked down into her beer. “I’m warning you, I might be terrible company. If I get buzzed I’ll probably start telling you my entire sad story.”

“I love sad stories. So does Ira,” Ambrose told her. The dog, for his part, started tugging toward the stairs that led down to the yard, clearly sending a message. “Oh, looks like someone needs a walk. I’ll be back in a sec.”

“I’ll come with you, if you want,” Lauren offered.

“Yeah?” he said, pushing that curl out of his face.

“It’s not like I really want to stay here,” she said.

“Lead the way, then.”

Ambrose waved his hand, motioning for her to go first. She glanced at Leo, shrugged with a smile, and then started down the steps, Ambrose and Ira following along behind her. I could hear their voices, already chatting, as they disappeared into the dark of the yard below.

“He’d better behave himself,” Leo said, as we watched them cut across the grass, their shadows thrown in the moonlight. “That girl’s a real prize.”

I believed this, even though I’d just met her, and was pretty sure Ambrose got it, too. And watching this particular departure, I knew something was happening. Even from a distance, you could tell when two people simply clicked. Starting with a nighttime walk, well—that just sealed the deal.





CHAPTER


    16





ETHAN DID phone me from the parking lot, just as he’d promised. I missed the call.

In my defense, I was packed in the elevator with a group of people who’d just arrived, all talking over each other. If I heard a ringtone of soaring soprano, backed by moaning violins, I probably just assumed it belonged to one of them. It wasn’t until I got off on my floor and it rang again in the quiet of the hallway that I realized the noise was coming from my pocket. I pulled it out.

“You might be annoyed now,” he said, in lieu of hello, “but that song will grow on you. Someday, it might even make you cry.”

When I remembered this later, it broke whatever pieces were left of my heart. But that was later.

“You put a Lexi Navigator song as my ringtone?” I asked.

“While I was getting my bag,” he told me. “And before you get mad about me jacking your password for Tunage,” he said, “you really should make it harder to figure out.”