the join date on my profile.
I figured he didn’t have a reason to lie about something so insignificant, so I took his word for it. Maybe taking the plunge and talking to someone on here for the first time, when it was also his first time, wouldn’t be too bad. I mean, neither of us would have any preconceived notion of how it was supposed to go, which would probably alleviate the stress of feeling like I had no idea what I was doing.
Val44: And we would just chat online for the next week? Not meet in person?
Donovan620: If that’s what you want, yes.
I knew I had to eventually dip my toe back in the water. Why not take a baby step and chat online? Practice. Since it wouldn’t lead to anything at the end of the week, how could it hurt to agree?
Val44: Okay. A week.
***
“You didn’t tell me you were turning your Memorial Day barbeque into a bash.” I handed Eve a glass cake dish filled with my homemade tiramisu. It was her favorite.
“Just a few extra.”
The backyard was visible from the kitchen through a double set of French doors. There had to be fifty people outside, and inside there were a few milling around, too. Normally, the Monroe Memorial Day barbeque capped at twenty.
“A few? Who are all those people? I would have made two desserts.”
Eve waved off my comment with her hand, then dug into the utensil drawer. She pulled out a huge serving spoon and, before I could stop her, scooped a heaping spoonful from the delectable dessert I’d just handed her.
“That took me hours to make!”
“I wasn’t going to share it anyway. Haven’t you ever noticed that every year I hide it in the back of the fridge and accidentally forget to put it out?”
My phone buzzed in my pocket. It had been doing that a lot lately. Donovan and I had spent hours messaging back and forth the last four days. We’d even progressed from chatting within the dating app to texting—probably not the smartest move, but at least now I got a text notification when he messaged and didn’t have to open the app every five minutes to see if I’d missed something.
Donovan: Did you leave any of that tiramisu at home?
Valentina: I can’t leave any at home, or I’ll eat it. That stuff is my weakness. I might as well glue some ladyfingers to my ass with the calories in there.
Donovan: Now those sound like delicious ladyfingers…
I felt a little tingle reading that last sentence. He’d been polite in our exchanges, for the most part. But sometimes he’d throw in sexy one-liners like that, and I really sort of liked it.
“Who are you texting?” Eve asked.
“No one.”
She squinted. “No one, huh?”
Tom Monroe saved me from further interrogation. Walking inside from the yard, he wrapped one arm around his wife’s waist from behind, pulled her flush against him, and stole the serving spoon out of her hand. He shoveled a heaping bite of my beautiful tiramisu between his lips and spoke with a full mouth.
“This stuff is better than sex.”
Eve arched an eyebrow at me. “Told you. Old.”
Her husband, used to her playful jabs, ignored her. “Did you meet Jonathon yet?”
Eve elbowed him. “She just got here. I haven’t mentioned Jonathon yet.”
Tom snorted. “Or Will. Or Jack. Or Mike, Adam, or Timmy. Although, I think my wife is wrong and Timmy is gay.”
I fixed my stare on my friend. “What is he talking about?”
Eve took the spoon back from her husband and filled her mouth with more dessert. Pointing at her cheeks, she made garbled sounds to relay her inability to speak.
I looked over her shoulder. “Tom, what did your wife do?”
“She made me invite every single man in my office. I’m guessing you had no idea.”
“Good guess.” I turned to Eve. “Please tell me you didn’t tell them I was single and looking to meet someone.”
“Of course not.”
“Thank God.”
“I told them you were single and looking to get laid.”
My eyes widened to saucers.
Eve reached out and put her hand on my arm. “Kidding.”
“You better be.”
She wriggled out of her husband’s hold and slung her arm around my neck. “Come on, let me introduce you to some people.”
Jonathon turned out to be a really nice guy, although not my personal taste. He was good looking enough. The problem was more his abundant spirituality. I like a man who has strong beliefs, don’t get me wrong. But when someone spends fifteen minutes preaching