Page 41 of My So-Called Perfect Life

“So …” She hesitates. “I don’t know if you’ve gone to get checked since my lunacy on Saturday, but if not, you should. I just wanted to come down here and tell you in person that I’m sorry for Saturday and for possibly giving you an STD. I swear, I had no idea that night.”

I let out a laugh, thankful that for the most part I find the whole thing funny in retrospect. I can’t change it, but that doesn’t mean I can’t laugh about it. “I think your visit on Saturday made that very clear.”

“Yeah … well …” She pauses as if she’s trying to think of something to say. “Yeah. So, I’m sorry.”

She digs in her bag, pulls out a small green tuft of fur, and holds it out.

It has spikes on the top of it that look like they’re supposed to be hair, two eyes, and a mouth. “What’s this?”

“Chlamydia.”

I laugh. I don’t know why. I can’t help it. “I should feel honored, huh?” I say. “No other woman has ever given me chlamydia, let alone twice.”

Her face falls. Her almond-shaped eyes go wide. “Oh my God. I’m so sorry.”

I shake my head. “It’s fine, Danielle.”

Well, it isn’t really fine. I mean, she did give me chlamydia, but she looks so crestfallen that my immediate reaction is to make her feel better.

She goes back to wringing her hands together and starts rambling with a sense of horror in her, “I came here to apologize and warn you, but I don’t think I actually thought I had passed it to you. You were so certain the other night that you didn’t have it. I mean, I knew instantly that I had it—or at least that something was wrong—so I was sure you’d have known too. I mean, the feeling of peeing fire is hard to igno—”

She stops talking as soon as she realizes exactly what she was saying, and her eyes grow even wider. I didn’t think it was possible for eyes to widen that much. Any further, and they might fall from her head.

Her cheeks brighten to a nice shade of pink just before she covers her face with her hands. “Ugh, can my life get worse?” she mumbles into her hands.

Stepping closer, I take one of her hands in mine and pull it from her face. “Listen, it’s a good thing you came in. I didn’t know anything was wrong, so who knows how long I could’ve walked around, not knowing?”

“Can you see the embarrassing irony for me here?” she asks, looking at me with one eye since she still has the other covered. “I came in here, drunk, guns blazing, and yelled at you for infecting me when, in reality, I infected you.”

I chuckle. “Of course, I can see it. It’s like a giant neon sign. But as much as it sucks, it is what it is. It’ll all be cleared up in a few days, and that’s that.”

“Why aren’t you being a dick about this?” she asks, finally dropping her other hand from her face. “Especially after how I acted the other night.”

“I could be, but what would that add to the situation? It’s done, and all we can do is move forward.”

She nods and steps toward the door. “I appreciate you not laying into me.”

“You’re welcome.”

* * *

A smile donsmy lips as I exit my office and make my way back to the bar. Stella is back early from her break, I’m assuming. She’s corralling a group of guys at the end who from the looks of it, just ordered a lot of shots. Roxy grins at me as Evan sits across from her.

Roxy pops the top off a beer and hands it to my best buddy. “Any vomit to clean up?”

Clapping Evan on the back, I glare at Roxy. “Don’t you have a rush of customers that need tending?”

She smirks, leaning against the bar. “Nope. Stella is back and taking care of the group. It’s all covered now.”

“I swear, if you weren’t the best mixologist I’ve ever met—”

She rolls her eyes. “You’d do nothing. Spare us the idle threat and fill me in on the newest drama development in your life.”

“I’m positive you must have some form of work to do?”

She shakes her head. “Nope. Stella is handling those bachelors just fine. Evan is the only one who was waiting for a drink down this end, and as you can see, I’ve taken care of him.”

“Roxy girl”—Evan smirks at her—“there are so many more ways you can take care of me.”