A few times a year, he’d start having sex dreams multiple nights in a row and he’d know it was time to find a hookup. When it was time, he did one of two things. Either he called up Stephanie Ortega, who he had an eighty percent chance of hooking up with—she’d been his three-quarter girlfriend about a decade ago and, if she wasn’t involved with anyone, was usually pretty receptive to a booty call. Or he went to the same dance club in Lower Manhattan that he’d been going to since law school. It was dark, a little grimy, and the only dancing that anyone really did there consisted of the sweaty grinding of soft parts against hard parts. All John had to do was knock a few drinks back at the bar and then slide onto the humid dance floor. There too he had about an eighty percent success rate of going home with someone.

But that wasn’t what he was talking about here. No. This move, this sitting down in the chair across from Mary, was a whole different thing. He sipped at his beer, which was warm because he’d gotten here so early to try to make sure he got the right seat at the bar.

He had two legs. He could stand up right now, walk over there and sit down. Mary, screw Elijah Crawford. I’d really like to kiss you good night.

He could do it.

He was going to do it.

John reached into his back pocket, pulled out his wallet and threw cash on the bar. He took a deep breath that tasted metallic in his throat. Shiny with nerves, he was about to stand when his phone vibrated in his pocket. He pulled it out and rolled his eyes when he read the text.

Whatever. His mother could wait. Right now, he had a chair to sit down in, he had a beautiful woman to be crystal clear with. He was nervous and unsure, but he was doing this. He was—

“Did she text you too?” A warm hand landed on John’s elbow and all thoughts of the chair across from Mary died an immediate death. Because Mary stood beside him at the bar and the hostess was already clearing away Mary’s used water glass from the table.

“My mother?” he asked hoarsely, trying to catch up and clear the nerves from his throat all at once.

Mary held up her phone to show him the text she’d just gotten at 8:00 p.m. on the button.

Mary, dear, so sorry but Elijah won’t be making it tonight. Sorry you had to get all dolled up! Don’t walk home alone, love. I’ll see if John is still at work.

The restaurant wasn’t actually far from John’s work and he laughed as he showed Mary the text he’d just gotten.