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peen a little too much, though.”

Lauren laughed, but it bothered her that she couldn’t explain what had been happening with Caleb. She had a regular fuck buddy, but they had no future.

On the other hand, neither she nor Caleb was seeing anybody else, and they’d spent three of the last seven nights together, and it sure seemed like they were in a relationship, albeit a secret one. They still bickered sometimes and disagreed about everything from what to watch on television to if they liked rainy days to whether or not bagels should be toasted. She was afraid to ask his opinions on political issues, because she’d probably find out he had opinions she couldn’t stomach.

Still, they had something between them, and they got along more than they fought lately, and it would be nice to be able to tell her friends she was seeing someone, or at least be able to explain what was happening in her life. She didn’t like keeping things from Evan. But she didn’t feel like she could say anything, either.

“There’s no way you’re the last single gay man in Brooklyn,” Lauren said to deflect attention off herself.

“Don’t say things like that out loud. You’ll jinx me.”

“I’m just saying, the man you’ll end up with is still out there somewhere. So it’s not Pablo. That doesn’t mean there are no other men in the world. And also, maybe what you saw isn’t what you think you saw.”

“You think Pablo makes out with random customers at the bookstore on a regular basis?” Evan raised an eyebrow.

“Probably not. But maybe the hipster guy is just the man of the moment. He’ll be old news by next week.”

Evan sighed. “Well, like I said, my current malaise is not really about Pablo. I just worry sometimes that life is passing me by when I’m not looking. Maybe I need to be more aggressive.”

Lauren’s heart sank. What was it about her current situation that made her feel this way? Her secret boyfriend, probably.

Maybe she should ask Caleb to go public. But that would, of course, be asking him to acknowledge they had a relationship, which he’d seemed reluctant to do. He may not have thought they had a relationship, but they did, however untraditional it was.

She let out a breath. “This seems like a conversation we should be having over drinks.”

“Hence the Irish coffee request.”

“Well, let me see if I can wrap up my time here for the day. We can drown our sorrows at Pop instead.”

“Am I having my quarter-life crisis late? Is there such a thing as a third-life crisis?”

“You must know you’re handsome, Evan. And you’re kind and smart and funny. Any man would be lucky to have you.”

“I appreciate that, but I have to meet other single men to make said man lucky.”

Lauren could tell from the expression on his face that Evan was about to get maudlin, so she told him to stay where he was while she checked in with her staff and made sure she was good to leave for the day. Monique assured her about eight times that she and Paige could take care of closing, so Lauren went back to her office and grabbed her things. On the way back toward the front door, she grabbed Evan.

“Come on, Mr. Sad Sack. Let’s go have fruity martinis.”

“Yes, please!”

***

There’d probably been some protocol broken when Lauren and Caleb exchanged phone numbers. It felt like a step toward actually contacting each other on purpose instead of only getting together through happenstance and coincidence and a well-timed argument.

But Caleb further broke protocol when he actually texted Lauren on his day off and invited her to come over.

It was a move that broke through the artifice. He’d been kidding himself if he thought whatever was between them would be limited to them stumbling into each other. He’d stopped himself from texting her a few times, but ultimately, he realized he wanted to see her.

She’d shown up at his door with a brown paper bag with the Shake Shack logo on it, so they’d had burgers for dinner and sex for dessert.

And now Lauren was in the bathroom while Caleb sat in his bedroom, fretting about whether he’d crossed some line from this being something vague and ephemeral to this being something concrete and real.

He still wasn’t ready. He couldn’t fall in love. He wouldn’t get married. He just wanted sex and companionship, not for this to be a whole thing. Because Lauren was…Lauren. The cat café manager with her head in the clouds. They were unsuited for each other. It didn’t matter that he enjoyed her company now. It was likely only a matter of months before they wouldn’t be able to stand each other anymore.

When Lauren walked back into the bedroom, Caleb was sitting on the bed, flipping through channels on his television. He tried to push all thoughts of this being a relationship out of his head.

“I only own one TV,” she said. “Having one in the bedroom seems luxurious.”

“I put the TV on to help me fall asleep sometimes.”

“Yeah? What do you watch?”

“Well, for one thing, there’s this forensic investigation show on one of the upper dial cable channels that airs all night. They solve crime with science.” Caleb paused on an ad for a personal injury lawyer. “I love this guy’s accent.”

It was a pretty aggressive Brooklyn accent; the guy looked Italian and had probably grown up in Carroll Gardens or Bensonhurst. Not only did he have the “cawffee tawk” vowels down, but he hit his consonants hard.

“Better or worse than the Boston accent?” Lauren asked.

“Dunno. More of a novelty, maybe. When I lived in Boston, one of our vet techs had a hard-core Southie accent, so I heard it every day and got used to it. Plus I grew up in Maine, where nobody pronounces Rs, either. Still, the first time the tech told me a canine patient had parvo, I had no idea what he was talking about. He kept

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