Page 14 of Worst Wingman Ever

I twisted my elbow to look at the welt. “Occupational hazard. I was knocking down a hornet’s nest at work. One of them got me.”

“Ouch.”

“Better me than a little old lady.”

She smiled. Then she sat back on her heels and dug in the small purse she had on. “Here. It’s prescription cortisone.”

Doobie was calmer now, so I let go of his collar to take it. The second I wasn’t holding him up, he rolled onto his back so she could rub his belly.

She looked down at him with hearts in her eyes. “He’s so sweet,” she said.

I put a pea-size amount on the sting. “Do you have any pets?”

She shook her head. “No. It’s hard when you live alone.”

“I live alone too. But I work where I live, so I can check on him.” I handed the tube back to her.

“Keep it. In case you need to save any more old ladies.”

“Ha. Thanks.” I slipped it into my pocket.

“It’s pretty swollen,” she said.

I pressed on the walnut-size welt. “It hurts too. It’s hard as hell.”

“It’s actually hard as hail,” she said. “Did you know that? I just learned that today.”

“Is it? I guess it makes sense. Did you know that when someone says ‘Break a leg’ to an actor, it’s because they’re hoping they end up in a cast?”

Her mouth dropped open. “Is that true?”

I was smiling. “I don’t know. I would definitely fact-check me.”

She looked amused at my joke.

“Did you know that the first episode of a show is called a pilot because it’s the first time it’s on the air?” she asked.

“Really,” I deadpanned.

“Really. But I would definitely fact-check me too.”

I laughed and it made her laugh. We shared this small moment, and we held each other’s gaze for a split second. Then she looked away from me and stood up. “Thanks for letting me play with him. It’s been a rough day. I needed it.” She slipped her sandals on.

“Yeah.”

She stood there for a beat. “Have a good night.” Then she turned and started walking back to the building.

Somebody told me once that it only takes a few minutes to know if you like someone. That our initial impression is usually the right one. I liked her. I had the strongest urge to call after her and ask her name, ask for her number, ask her to coffee. I almost did it. I was so close.

Then I realized how I looked.

I was in work clothes. I had paint on my jeans, my steel-toe boots were scuffed. My beard was grown out, I needed a haircut.

I hadn’t given two shits about my appearance since Brenda. What was the point? Who did I have to impress? I wasn’t dating, I wasn’t even looking. But suddenly I cared how I looked. I cared a lot.

I cared enough that it stopped me from stopping her.

So I just let her go. I watched the door close behind her, and the moment was gone.