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Maggie tangles her fingers in Sean’s hair, holding him to her, and when a faint whimper falls from her mouth, warmth settles low in my belly. Heaven help me, this is like watching live porn, and coupled with my random flashbacks of losing my virginity to Devin … well, let’s just say I’m certainly worked up.

Sean pulls back. Maggie’s eyes flutter open. “I have to meet a client for dinner,” he says, linking their hands together, “but I wanted to stop in and tell you ‘I love you.’ That was your be-waiting-for-me-when-I-get-back kiss.”

“That was one hell of a kiss,” I mumble. Both Maggie and Sean’s heads snap toward me. “Well”—I shrug unapologetically—“it was. I could seriously go for a stiff drink and cigarette after watching that.”

Maggie’s eyes widen with amusement. “You don’t smoke.”

“Exactly.”

Sean grins and kisses Maggie one last time before heading out the door.

“He’s my lobster,” she says with a sigh, dropping next to me on the couch. Maggie is a Friends addict, and one of her favorite episodes is the one where Phoebe tries to convince Rachel that Ross is her ‘lobster’ because lobsters mate for life. So, being a Friends addict myself, I know right off the bat what she’s talking about.

“Can I have a bite of your lobster?”

Maggie snorts and smiles over at me. “Sorry, sister. We need to find you your own.”

“I don’t think I have a lobster,” I say, feeling a twinge of discomfort in my chest. In a few years I’ll be thirty, and although I know I’m not in the best place right now to start up a relationship, it’s still something I long for.

“You have a lobster,” she affirms. “He’s just still out there swimming around, trying not to get eaten.” Pulling her knee up on the couch, Maggie angles her body toward mine. “Okay, I’m seriously starving so we have to stop talking about food. What do you want to do tonight?”

“What are my choices?” I ask, mimicking her position on the couch.

“Do you want to watch a movie?”

“Nah, I watched a movie this morning.” I worked the past three nights, which means I have the next couple of days off. This morning was spent watching The Breakfast Club, and when I went to start it over, I decided once was enough. So I invited myself to Maggie’s where I’ve spent the better part of the afternoon.

“We could get dolled up and go have a few drinks.”

I look down at my yoga pants, t-shirt and tube socks. The thought of replacing them with skintight jeans and heels makes me want to cringe. “Pass. Next option.”

Maggie looks around, making a clicking noise with her tongue. “I got it!” Jumping from the couch, she darts down the hall, and a couple seconds later she runs back with her laptop in tow. “Power that baby up,” she says, handing me her computer before she walks into the kitchen.

By the time I turn the computer on, Maggie comes strolling back in with a pint of vanilla ice cream, a bottle of chocolate syrup, and two spoons.

“Sorry.” She shrugs, sitting on the couch next to me. “I only have vanilla, but we can totally coat it in chocolate.”

“Don’t ever apologize for feeding me ice cream or chocolate.” Handing the laptop to Maggie, I grab the ice cream and peel open the lid, then pour the syrup all over it. Grabbing the spoons, I hand one to her, snuggle against the couch and we both dive in.

“What’s the laptop for?” I ask, shoveling the first bite of creamy deliciousness in my mouth.

A slow grin spreads across Maggie’s face. “We are going to find you a lobster.”

“Oh no. Nonono.” Shaking my head, I make a move for the computer, but she pulls it out of my reach.

“Oh yes. Yesyesyes.”

“Maggie—”

“Oh, come on. Loosen up. This could be fun,” she quips.

“I don’t even know what this is.” I scowl, dipping my spoon in the container for another bite.

“Marry me dot com.”

“Absolutely not,” I mumble around the ice cream in my mouth. “I will not do a dating site.”

“Why not?” she whines, giving me her best puppy-dog eyes.