Page 6 of Things I Overshared

A waiter appears at our table with two margaritas as I’m putting down my phone. She looks at me with a wink. “This is from the gentleman at the bar, and another for your friend.” I trace the gesture over her shoulder to a hot guy across the bar area smiling our way. He gives a nod, and I give a small wave. He’s sitting but looks to be a bit on the shorter side, and as if maybe he logs extra hours lifting weights to compensate. He’d probably be a lot of fun, if I were up for fun right now.

“Nice, what’d you do this time?” Nicole whispers to me, her gorgeous dark curls falling in front of her face a bit as she eyes our patron.

“What? Nothing!”

“You didn’t eye him walking by or something, Flirts‘R’us?”

“When? I’ve been sitting here with you!”

She sighs. “I bet your crazy donkey laugh alerted him to your gorgeous presence.”

“Excuse me, my laugh is delightful.”

“Uh-huh. I’m sure that’s what he’s thinking about and not the girls you’ve got propped up on the table.”

I laugh too loudly again, then cover my mouth.

I do have my chest smashed up against the table, but I can’t help my laugh or my curves. I’m grateful that curvy is a desirable adjective these days, but I still get flashes of self-consciousness. I was on the far side of “thick” as a child, and even now with a trim waist, my body is the type that will retain pounds if I so much as look at a donut. Shoot, if I evenwalk bya donut shop. I’m not one who can just ignore calories or neglect exercise. “You going to go talk to him?” Nicole breaks through my thoughts.

“Wha— No. You know I—”

“Right, right, sorry.” She sighs again. “All your mojo gone to waste.” Something crosses over my face. “Sorry, Sam. Not waste. I bet it gets stored up—all your magnetism—and when you’re ready to date again, watch out, New York!”

I laugh it off. “You know it!”

________

When I get home to Gus, who barely greets me because he is 1,000 percent my introvert sister’s cat, I pull out my phone again. I text Susan that I’m logging into her Facebook and laugh that she’s surprised we all know her password of the last sixteen years, SoonerSuze1234.Real secure, Ms. COO.

She’s friends with Emerson because of my brother-in-law, so I pull up his profile. I’m not surprised his Facebook is lacking in juicy details as well. The only nugget of interest for me to chew on is a few profile photos with a stunning redhead thirteen years back. Gosh, Facebook is so old and lame. But hey, how else would I stalk my friend-to-be? The woman, Chelsea Wittington, is with him a few times, for about two years, then he updated his profile to a solo pic . . . right around the time he came back to the States.

Wait.

Did Emerson Clark cross the pond over a breakup?! Is that why he’s so cold? Do we have a classichurt people hurt peoplesituation going on here? I text Nicole.

Me: How have we not discussed Mr. Clark’s love life?!

Does he have a girlfriend?

Nicole: You can’t be serious.

NO!

Not like that!

I found an ex of his on FB.

Oh okay. Yes, I think he might. She’s never come to the office, but when he actually goes to events and takes a date, he always has the same plus-one. Miranda-something.

Roger.

I find a Miranda Pinell in Emerson’s friends list. She has a public profile, and no wonder. Legs for days, thin arms, flat abs. She’s also English. So basically, Hailey Bieber with a sexy accent and white-blond hair.Damn. Well done, Emerson!I copy her profile over to Nicole.

Me: This her?

[Facebook link]

Nicole: Yep