Nothing we said or did was going to make this better for Marie in the long run. She would have to live through it.

But, in the short term, there was something I could do.

“Marie,” I said, and I squeezed her hand again. “What is your least favorite part of the male anatomy?”

“Uh…what?”

“Come on.” I nudged her shoulder. “You have to have a least favorite part.”

Marie stared at me for a beat then blinked rapidly. “Really? I just pour out my heart to you and….”

“Balls,” Ashley announced unceremoniously from her place on the floor.

Elizabeth snickered.

“Oh, my lord.” Marie covered her face with her hands and shook her head.

I ignored her and leaned closer to Ashley. “I know, right? I mean, shouldn’t those things be on the inside?”

Janie’s thoughtfully distracted voice chimed in. “I feel like the rest of the male body makes a lot of sense. And then…balls.”

“Yes!”

“It makes me think maybe God is an alien or ran out of alluring parts before he got to the male reproductive system.”

“They never look nice; it’s basically impossible. You can’t dress them up, and I’ve seen a lot of balls in the ER. I’ve never seen a man’s balls and thought to myself, Now that guy has a great set of testicles.” Elizabeth added somberly.

Marie’s shoulders were shaking, I assumed with laughter or tears or both. I couldn’t be sure.

Ashley nodded and said, “If I never had to see another set of balls again, it would be too soon,” her voice completely deadpan as she picked up her cable needle.

When Marie finally peeked between her fingers at me, her eyes were wet, but most of the melancholy was absent. It had been replaced with shining bemused amusement. “You are crazy.” The words were somewhat muffled behind her hands.

I grinned at her. “I’m just trying to prove a point.”

“Which is?”

“You won’t miss everything about him.”

She released a breathy chuckle, still shaking her head, and wrapped her arms around me. “Thank you.”

“No thanks necessary. It’s what we’re here for.” I pulled a little away so I could free my arms and return her embrace. I noted that she was fighting a new wave of tears.

“Oh, Marie,” I tsked. Then I hugged her ferociously, hating that this doormat of a man had made her cry.

I hated seeing my friends in pain. I hated my helplessness, that I couldn’t just reach inside them and fix everything for them, that I couldn’t make their hearts see how wonderful they were.

It is the burden of the optimist to live a life not knowing why others can’t see the beautiful light within themselves.

“You are woman. You are lovely in every way—inside and out. But he will always have ugly balls, and there is nothing he can do about it.”

“And the taint!” Ashley added, her expression earnest.

When the laughter subsided, Marie sniffled, “What would I do without you girls?”

“Likely eat more ice cream.” Kat patted her hair.

“I hate to admit this, but I feel so lost.”

I didn’t tell her, because I didn’t think it would help, but all people are lost, to varying degrees. I suspected that it’s only when we love others—through purpose, friendship, romance, or any combination thereof—that we become found.

CHAPTER 11

(Two weeks later) Monday Horoscope: The problem you’ve been obsessing over is coming to a crossroad. Take a risk. Otherwise, you’ll regret your inaction and suffer the consequences.

“Sandra.”

“Thomas, I….”

“You called.” He sounded concerned.

“Yes, I….”

“Why are you calling? Are you harmed?”

“No….”

“Are you rescheduling our Saturday lunch?”

“No….”

“Is this an emergency?”

“Stop asking questions and just listen.”

“Why are you calling?”

I sighed, rolled my eyes. This was why I never called Thomas. “I need your help.”

“Do you need money?”

“Thomas, I swear, if you ask me another question, I will secretly switch your caffeinated with decaf during Saturday lunch at least three times over the next six months.”

I could tell he was thinking about my threat, weighing it against the compulsion of his curiosity. Belatedly he said, “Proceed.”

“Good. Listen, I need your help. I need you to come with me to dinner on Friday.”

I’d tried—for the last two weeks—to push all thoughts of Alex from my mind. I’d tried and failed. If anything, I was thinking about him more than ever. He was becoming an unhealthy preoccupation, and something needed to be done about it.

“Dinner on Friday? Wait, that was not a question.” He cleared his throat, and I could almost hear his mind working out a way to ask me a question without actually asking me a question. He said, “I’d be happy to take you out Friday, if you would be so kind as to tell me why you require my escort.”

“Nicely phrased. So, this is about the guy, the guy I talked to you about a few weeks ago.”

“Ah, the one you won’t diagnose, and subsequently haven’t discussed.”

“Yes. And I appreciate you not asking me about him the last few weeks. Well, I wore a vampy dress like we agreed. Everything was proceeding as planned, but then something happened, and now I don’t think he’s so sure he wants to see me again.”

I could feel Thomas’s struggle on the other end. He was an inquisitive creature. Not being able to ask questions was probably driving him bonkers. But then he shocked the holy heck out of me by saying, “Well, he’s obviously an idiot, because you are lovely, funny, and wholly amazing.”

“Oh! Thomas. Thank you.” I smiled at the phone. “You are very kind.”

He offered a gruff, “You’re welcome.”

“I just need you to come with me to the restaurant where he works. Maybe I can…I think he’ll…well, I’m hoping I’ll get a chance to talk to him.”

This was the best plan I could formulate. I didn’t know the entire story with his federal agent—how closely he was watched, how freely we could speak. I couldn’t call him. In fact, I had no way of contacting him. Maybe if I showed up for dinner like a regular customer, I could get him alone for a conversation. Maybe I could go to the bathroom and signal him to join me so we could talk privately.

Sure, he was strange, but then so was I.

Maybe we could be strange together.

At the very least, I owed him an apology for assuming he was a gifted liar.

“You should just call him on the phone.”

“No. I can’t. Don’t ask me to explain why.”

“I see….” I heard leather creak in the background. He’d either just sat down or he was shifting in his chair. “You could just go alone.”

“I could. But I don’t want to. I want to go with someone I trust—someone I can talk to afterward if things don’t go my way.”

“Sandra, you have dozens of platonic male friends, and female friends as well.”

“Yes. I do. I have dozens and dozens. But I can’t talk to them about this kind of stuff. Also, except for you and my knitting group, I’ve been avoiding everyone.”

“I know. I probably shouldn’t tell you this, but Devon mentioned he feels paralyzed about decorating his apartment. He was hoping you’d help. He’s not the only one who has been asking about you.”

“I’ll help Devon decorate if you come with me on Friday.”

Thomas’s sigh was audible through the phone. “And if this man’s reaction is not favorable on Friday, then I assume you will no longer be pursuing him.”

“Your assumption is correct.”

“I do wonder, though I will not ask, why you bother at all. Certainly if he were worth your time he’d be doing everything in his power to keep you close.”

My smile widened; I was beginning to enjoy our game and Thomas’s non-question questions. “It’s hard to explain the situation. Just know that you’d be doing me a big favor. All you have to do is sit there and look pretty.”

Thomas paused; I could hear him breathe, could tell he was thinking. Then he said, “Fine. I’ll accompany you. I shall do my best to be adequately attractive.”

I sagged in my chair, relieved he’d agreed to help me. “Thank you, Thomas. You’re a great friend.”

He grumbled something I couldn’t quite decipher, likely a question, but I wasn’t paying attention. I was too preoccupied experiencing a relatively unfamiliar and unsettling emotion: anxiety.

CHAPTER 12

Friday’s Horoscope: Today you will be fighting a constant battle with confusion and disappointment. If you take the road less traveled, you will find happiness at the end of it.

“Thomas, would you please smile? For cripe’s sake, at least pretend to be having a good time.”

“How do I do that?”

“Laugh.”

“Okay.” Thomas inhaled, then expelled a truly garish laugh. It was like staccato keys on a pipe organ. Under any other circumstances, I would have assumed he was suffering from some sort of apoplectic fit.