Page 8 of Cava with My Colleague

“Have I had cava?” Emma asks.

“You had some in Madrid when you stayed with me, but it was forever ago. I think it’s my favorite now.” Manny told me it’s supposed to be a special occasion drink, but in my mind, there’s always something to celebrate.

“Oh,” Tessa says, taking two quick strides to catch up to us. “Unseating the Moscato?”

“My tastes are maturing,” I say, affecting a terrible British accent. “Besides, I’ve grown used to drinking it. When in Rome—or, in this case, Madrid—and all that.”

Sara turns to me, linking our arms together. “Well, then, let’s get you some cava posthaste. I know a shop on the way to the Indian place.”

Tessa links arms with Emma, and they follow behind us. My friends are all so happy right now. And I’m happy for them. Really, I am. My heart can be happy for my friends while my hormones rage about getting laid.

All I want is one hot hookup. Is that too much to ask? And a weekend away would be the perfect time for it.

“Does Chris have any friends he can hook me up with?” I wonder.

“Still in a dry spell?” Sara glances at me with concern.

“My vibrator has been working overtime. And I think it would be good to focus my attention on someone else instead of worrying about this Carlos thing.”

“Well, I hate to say this, but a one-night stand in London that you’re never going to see again probably isn’t going to cut it.”

“It can’t hurt. Orgasms are nice in that way, especially non-self-inflicted ones.”

Sara rolls her eyes again, so hard it probably hurts. I grin.

“Maybe you need to go on an actual date.”

“Blasphemy,” I say. “Besides, I’d only leave the man behind, brokenhearted, when my time in Madrid is up. We can’t all happily settle down like you. And unlike you three, I have a job in Austin to get back to soon.”

I say it lightly, the way I always do. The job in Austin is real—my team, my lab, the life I built there over a decade. A good life, by any measure. A nice apartment near the Domain, friends from work, a farmers’ market on Sundays. Before Madrid I would have described it as exactly what I wanted.

It’s harder to describe now. Not because Austin has gotten worse. Because the measuring stick has changed.

“Six more months,” Sara sings. “A lot could change for you in six months. Just you wait, Jade. I have a feeling your dry spell will be over soon.”

“Ah, yes, the eternal words of optimism from a happily paired person.” I shake my head, teasing them, and raise my voice to make sure Tessa and Emma can hear me. “You three are so ridiculously happy with your men⁠—”

“Santo isn’t my man,” Emma protests.

“—while I’m about to spend two months in close quarters with a man who can’t stand me. Two months of hotel rooms and dinners and Carlos glaring at me across conference tables.”

“Maybe that’s not such a bad thing,” Tessa says with a smirk.

“What?”

“Forced to travel together.” Tessa puts the back of her hand on her forehead. “Dinners out, sharp barbs, and then the hotel has lost your reservation and there’s only one room left⁠—”

I nearly choke on my exaggerated gasp. “Carlos? Absolutely not. That man has ice in his veins. Plus you know I already asked him out and he wasn’t interested.” I wave my hand dismissively. “It’s fine. I’m over it.”

“I don’t know,” Sara muses. “You talk about him a lot for someone you claim to hate.”

“I don’t hate him,” I protest. “I just—he⁠—”

My phone buzzes. I pull it out and my stomach drops.

Jade

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