I pressed Send before I could change my mind. Then I cringed at myself, and then I cringed at Merry. “God, this is all your fault. He’s going to think I’m an idiot, and even worse than that, he’s going to think I’m a clingy idiot. And what if his friends did try hooking him up again with another blind date? And what if he was an asexual Matt Bomer, and then Hennessy will be all like ‘Jordan who? That really weird guy that has verbal diarrhoea and yells out motherfucker to little old ladies on the bus?’”

The girl behind the counter stared at me, and Merry did that head-tilting thing again. “You called a little old lady on the bus a motherfucker?”

“Not directly. Also said it to the sliding door at work when I tripped over the chair. That was the only time I said it yesterday for the entire time we were together, which is like a record for me.”

Merry nodded. “That is pretty good for you.”

“I’m trying to find a new word, but there just aren’t any that are as versatile as motherfucker.”

Merry gave that a thought. “True.”

“I know. But I’m trying to stop saying it. I need something cutesy to say instead.”

“Yikes is pretty good,” the girl behind the counter said.

“Yikes?” I asked and took Merry’s shopping bag, giving the now-creepy sales lady the eye, because honestly, who the fuck says yikes? I gave Merry a wide-eyed stare. “Come on, Velma. Let’s go see what Scooby Doo is up to.”

I dragged Merry out of the store, we dumped our empty drinks in a bin, and I told her very seriously, “If I ever say yikes in lieu of motherfucker, it means I’ve been kidnapped by aliens or some shady government agency, and yikes is my distress beacon and you should drop everything and call Jason Bourne or Idris Elba or someone.”

Merry laughed. “Duly noted.”

My phone beeped in my hand and I tripped over my own feet, almost falling to the ground but catching myself just in time. “Motherfucker.”

Merry grabbed my arm. “Jordan, be careful!”

“This is entirely your fault,” I told her. “You made me go to the support meeting, and you made me speak to him on the bus, and you made me text him.”

“Well, hurry up and read his reply!” she said, ignoring my place of blame and waving her hand in a hurry up fashion. “Don’t leave me hanging! What did he say?”

I held my phone out with my hand over the screen. “What if it’s not good?”

“Oh Jesus H Christ, Jordan. So help me, read the motherfucking message.”

An elderly man who happened to be walking past, gasped at Merry, frowning. “Well, I’ve never…,” he said, hand to his heart as he scurried away.