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Seconds later, she shoots back a reply.
Gigi: You know I am. I’ve been waiting for the gossip. How was your date that wasn’t a date?
I bite my lip and tap out a note.
Ruby: Datier than expected.
Gigi: Ha! I knew it! Did you do the dirty deed? Is he there right now, snoring in your bed, too exhausted to move because your sex-starved little self ravaged him so completely?
I giggle like I’m closer to thirteen than thirty and reply.
Ruby: No. We decided to sleep on it before we took the next step, but the kissing was very, very nice. The nicest ever.
THAT MAN CAN KISS.
WE ARE TALKING THE FULL-ON SWOON-INDUCING, KNEE-BUCKLING VARIETY.
A GIF of a worried little girl sliding her gaze nervously toward the camera pops up on my screen.
Gigi: Uh-oh. But he’s still leaving, right?
Ruby: He is, but it’s fine. It’s perfect, actually. We’ll enjoy each other until he moves, without any worries about feelings or other complicating factors. It’ll just be satisfying, friendly boning, as the Good Lord intended.
She sends over a laughing emoji, then a longer reply.
Gigi: Is that what He intended? Good to know. I’m over relationships. The next time I meet a guy I like, I’m just going to get in, get some friendly boning, and get out. No stress, no mess, no waiting for him to confess he’s also boning half the population of Greenpoint.
I wince. Poor Gigi. Her last three boyfriends were all cheaters. It was basically the only thing they had in common.
Aside from the fact that they all made my “He’s Probably a Jerk” tail tingle when I met them.
Though, I’m not sure I’m in any place to give relationship advice, considering my last serious boyfriend was four years ago. Well before the accident, and well before Chad.
Brian and I met at a wine and painting class in Williamsburg and hit it off in a way only liquor and poorly drawn otters make possible.
There’s a reason I don’t drink and draw. Yes, I’m an artist, but I’m also a lightweight.
We dated for eight months, exchanged I’m falling for yous, but then the relationship just . . . petered out.
It was weird. I suppose I expected betrayal, like poor Gigi’s gone through, or some Sturm und Drang like Claire and her love affairs, which were all sparks and fire.
Brian and I were more . . . weak tea and cold scrambled eggs.
I’m not sure what could have made us work—or what makes relationships work in general—but I know Gigi is awesome and that someday Henry Cavill, or his doppelgänger, will see that.
So I reply with nothing but the truth.
Ruby: You’ll find someone loyal someday. I know you will. You’re smart and sexy and funny and fabulous, and the right guy is going to see that and bend over backward to hold on to you.
Gigi: Back at you, mama. So don’t settle, okay? Go after what you want, no matter what obstacles might be standing in your way.
Ruby: I will. But friends-with-benefits is all I want from Jesse.
Gigi: Okay. If you’re sure. Good night and sweet dreams. Or dirty dreams, I guess. Sounds as if that’s more likely, lol.
Her words are prophetic.
I do, indeed, have dirty dreams about Jesse all night, and wake to the sun shining through my apartment window, still every bit as sure that I want to get naked with him, ASAP, as I was last night.
I also, however, wake to a text from my mother.
My mother, who would probably give birth to a litter of kittens if she knew I was thinking about rolling around in bed with Jesse. She knows Jesse and I are good friends, and Barb isn’t a fan of crossing those kind of lines.
Friends should stay friends, lovers should stay lovers, and everyone should just get with the program and marry their second serious boyfriend the way she did and keep relationships simple so we can all focus on important things like running a successful business and making the world’s most mouth-watering pie.
I jettison nudity from my mind and focus my bleary eyes on Mom’s text.
Mom: Chocolate sampling for the German chocolate cream pie recipe I’m fine-tuning? Cocoa Is Love is opening an hour early for me. Be there or be sad because you missed Mom-and-chocolate bonding time.
Ruby: I see you’re relaxing and enjoying your vacation.
Mom: What’s more relaxing than playing with new recipes? Come join me. You know you want chocolate for breakfast!
I can deny neither that truth nor my mother, so an hour later, I enter the cool, air-conditioned chocolate shop in Park Slope.
My mom, looking adorable with her salt and pepper hair in a bouncy ponytail and the sparkly eyeshadow Gigi bought her for Christmas last year dusted around her eyes, leans in to peck my cheek. “Hey, baby. Glad I could twist your arm.”
