I giggle to myself that she considers thirty-nine an “older woman” and imagine how turned on she would be if she knew the truth, that I am nearly ten years older than I said I am. I wonder how old she is for a second, then decide I don’t want to know. I’ve slept with a few women who were younger than my son, but I try not to think about it. The truth has no relevance in matters of the heart.

Naomi hands me her phone, which reveals a digital menu. Tara was always ordering food and things online. I have no idea how to do it, but it is nice when it’s done for me.

“Pick whatever you want,” she says.

Ah, music to my ears. I can’t remember who got the tab last night. Maybe Naomi comes from money or has a fancy job at a start-up. I assume we talked about jobs, but I don’t remember. I just remember that she is an Aquarius, which is Leo’s best match.

“You can just Venmo me,” she says.

I don’t have Venmo, but I know it is a money-sharing app. Tara uses it. “I don’t have Venmo,” I say. “But I think I have cash.” I grab my wallet from the bedside table.

“You can pay me later,” she says. “Just pick! I got the French toast and a Bloody Mary. I’m starved.”

I feel rushed, so I pick the same as her. I make a note of the prices so I can pay her back. I don’t want her to think I’m cheap. After I hand her the phone, I pick up my wallet again. I fish out a twenty and a ten and hand her the bills. She throws them in the air, then tackles me. We fool around until Naomi gets a text indicating the food is a minute away.

“Fuck, I can’t find my ID,” Naomi says into her purse after she gets the text. “Can I use yours? For the alcohol?”

I feel nervous for a second. I am worried she will look at the age on my ID and see that I lied. My, well, “lack of truthfulness” has been an issue with women in the past. I like Naomi, and I don’t want to ruin it already. But I also crave alcohol, so I hand her the ID. She probably won’t even look.

Unfortunately, she starts examining the ID as soon as I hand it over. “Cute photo,” she says.

I smile, relieved. “Thanks,” I say. “Leos know how to photograph.”

She is still staring at the ID and her expression changes, which makes me nervous.

“Isn’t the food here?” I ask. “Shouldn’t we go outside?”

“Wait.” She pauses, seeming suddenly anxious. “You’re Dawn Webster.”