“Vivienne,” he says like he doesn’t have a care in the world. “How are you?” I want to punch him in his balls. Two can play this game.

“Mark,” I say with my fake voice. “I’m fine, thank you. How are you?”

“Great actually,” he says, and I want to ask him why. Is he great because he banged someone last night? Is he great because he has a date? My stomach feels like it’s swishing around. “Just finished my workout and I got your message.”

“Yes,” I say sweetly. “You forgot the fish, so I would like to get that back to you.”

“Um, let me check my calendar,” he says, and I sit up. “I’m booked today.”

“You know what? I was just thinking maybe we should have dinner,” I tell him. “I was thinking about what you said last night.”

“Really?” he says, surprised. “Um, okay. How is Friday?” he asks me.

“It’s Tuesday,” I tell him.

“Yeah, I know, but I don’t have time,” he says. “I mean, I guess we can do Thursday night, but I would have to get back to you.”

“Mark, I have your fish,” I tell him, raising my voice. “I am busy, too, but I can squeeze you in tonight at five thirty. It can be at Starbucks for all I care.”

“Um, five thirty …” he says, and I picture him tapping his chin. “I guess I can move my date to seven thirty instead.” Asshole. I want to snap at him, but I don’t.

“Great, why don’t we meet in the middle?” I tell him, pretending he didn’t just tell me he has a date with someone else.

“Sounds good, Vivienne,” he says my name, and I suddenly hate it. “See you then,” he says and then disconnects. I put the phone down, and I swear in French, English, and all the other languages that I know. I also run out and grab some fish food so Elsa doesn’t starve to death.