Free His Five Night Stand by Emma Thorne Page B

desperate, I’m not weird, maybe one, maybe I’ll start with one.”
    And with that I fell into a dreamless sleep.
     
     

Sunlight stream ed into the apartment. I hadn’t closed the curtains. I woke up late with cotton in my mouth and a throbbing headache. My phone vibrated on the floor beside the futon.
    “Hello,” I answered, instantly wishing I’d had the good sense to let it go to voice mail.
    “So, it’s like a thirty-minute wait, but I put our name in for a table already.”
    It was Cara and she sounded very awake.
    “A table? Where are you?” I could hear plates and dishes crashing in the background, and the hum of lively conversation.
    “I’m at Boat Street for our girl’s brunch? I sent you an email confirming yesterday . . .”
    Drat. I had a vague memory of a brunch email from Cara, but I had been so focused on the party invite, I had forgotten all about it.
    “Didn’t forget. I just overslept.” I did not want to go to brunch. I wanted to slide back under the covers and daydream about the sensation of Theo’s hands flirting with the zipper of my dress
    “You weren’t drinking alone, were you?” Cara said, her voice concerned. “You are not a drinker Callie and you sound hung over.”
    “No, I ended up going to a party next door,” I said, standing. I felt better standing which seemed odd. I picked up a half full jam jar of water and sucked it down. “I had a cocktail. Okay maybe two, three if I count.”
    “You are totally hung over. You aren’t bailing on me are you?”
    I wanted to hide under the covers and pretend that my heart wasn’t broken. I wanted to figure out whether I’d truly been propositioned by the hottest man I’d ever met in my life, or if that had been a drunken fantasy.
    “I’m just so tired,” I said, rubbing my temple.
    “Come on, you know you want someone to feed you breakfast. You know it will be more fun than eating a sad piece of toast all alone in your apartment. Don’t bail. Don’t be that girl.”
    I folded. Cara had been too good to me. She didn’t deserve to be stood up. “I’m in . . . I’ll be there in twenty minutes,” I said. “I’ll grab a cab.” I hopped across the floor pulling on a pair of yoga pants and grabbing a rumpled tee-shirt. I could sleep later. For now, something normal like brunch might do me some good.

    Cara already had a table at the Boat Street Cafe on their outdoor patio. She sat under a black and white striped umbrella waving as I walked down the brick pathway past the potted herbs the restaurant grew for their dishes.
    “I already ordered coffee,” she said, pouring me a cup from a silver carafe. “With half and half and real sugar cubes. I sensed you needed more than non-fat nonsense this morning.” Henry was a fanatic about his fat intake. His condo had been a non-fat milk zone, something I had ranted about during our drunken break up. It was one of the many things that had bothered me for years that I’d literally swallowed without a word.
    “You’re an angel.” I said, sitting down.
    “You do look like shit.”
    “Thanks,” I poured in cream, a lot of it. “We may need more of this stuff.”
    “So, what happened last night?” Cara said, her forehead wrinkling. I was definitely going to get her therapist third degree. “You didn’t do anything foolish did you? You know how easy it would be to rebound in your current state.”
    “I did not do anything foolish, at least I don’t think I did,” I said, grateful for my sunglasses. I wanted to tell her about Theo, but his invitation seemed surreal in the light of day. I wasn’t sure I could explain it in a way that sounded anything but insane.
    The waitress, a small Asian girl with ponytails, dropped off some toast and jam sparing me from Cara’s grilling for a moment. I ordered a hash with eggs over easy.
    “So who did you meet? Are your neighbors, nice? Tell me everything.” Cara said, taking a bite of toast her green eyes narrowing.
    “I