We’re friends now…well, almost friends.

He peed on my sweatshirt again.

HA! I have to get back to work, cat stealer.

We still watching a movie tonight?

If that’s what you want to call it.

Makes it seem like we actually have plans.

I have plans. Oh man, do I have plans.

As do I…

I’m sitting here eating your apple pie…think about that.

That’s all I can think about now… hating you.

You don’t hate me.

That’s true. Now go eat my pie.

…choking…

Text between Mimi and Caroline on Thursday:

You sure I can’t bring anything Saturday?

Nah, Sophia is bringing drinks,

and we’re taking care of the rest.

So good to hear you in a we again.

Yes, I’m enjoying the we.

And the we-we?

What are we, 7? Yes, the we-we is good.

Good to hear it. So have you slept in the bed of sin yet?

No, we seem to be staying at my place.

I think I’d feel weird in that bed.

Many walls were banged from that bed…

Exactly. That’s my point, feels strange.

Maybe it would be nice to make your mark on his bed, so to speak. New era, new girlfriend, new banger?

I don’t know, we’ll see… I know at some point

I’ll sleep there, just not yet. Besides,

he’s having too much fun bonding with Clive.

WHAT? Clive hates guys! Except gay guys.

They’ve come to some kind of weird kitty/man understanding. I’m not questioning it.

It’s like a new world order.

I know.

Want me to come over early Saturday and help?

You just want to get into my drawers again.

They need to be reorganized…

Come over early.

WAHOO!

Get some help…

Thursday evening all was quiet. Simon and I sat on my couch, working. I was sketching a holiday concept for someone’s ball room. Yep, ball room. This was the world I visited. Just visited, not lived in. I was still in my yoga clothes. Simon cooked, using my kitchen, in which he was becoming very much at home. He said it would be easier since we’d just end up at my place anyway, but I caught him lifting Clive up onto the counter so he could “watch.” I put that in quotes because the actual word was spoken by Simon to Clive. The entire sentence, I believe, was “Here ya go, buddy. This way you can watch! You can’t see too well from down on the floor, I bet, right? Right?”

And Clive answered. I know it was technically impossible, but the meow he uttered sounded like, “Thanks.” My boys were bonding. It was nice.

So here we sat, me sketching and Simon making his travel plans for Peru online. He had something like seventy billion frequent flyer miles, and he loved to flaunt them in my face.

So quiet it was, save the scratching of my colored pencils on the page and his clickety-clack on the keyboard. And the clicking from Clive.

Most stubborn kitty hangnail in the free world.

Simon finished and closed up his laptop, stretching his arms over his head and exposing his happy trail. I may have drawn outside the lines a bit. He laid his head against the back of the couch, eyes closed. Within a few moments, the tiniest of snores began, and I grinned silently. I continued my sketching.

Ten minutes later I felt his hand reach out across the pillows, and grasp my hand.

I only needed one hand for sketching after all.

“Holy shit, Caroline, these prawns are sick!” Mimi moaned in a way that made Ryan readjust the way he sat.

It was Saturday night, and we were all gathered around my dining room table, full of Spanish food and Spanish wine. I’d had a blast trying to recreate all the wonderful food Simon and I had eaten. Not as good certainly, but pretty close. And of course we were without the coastal ambiance, but instead had the coziness only an autumn evening in foggy San Francisco can provide. The city lights twinkled through the windows, a fire crackled in the fireplace, courtesy of Benjamin, and laughter filled the apartment.

I sat in my chair, tucked in to Simon’s side as we laughed with our friends. I’d been a little nervous that we’d be subjected to some kind of hazing, since our inevitable getting-together had been the topic of conversation for so long. But it was good, everyone settled into the evening with only minimal teasing. Simon and I had stuck pretty close together most of the evening, but I could already tell we would morph into one of those couples that didn’t need that.

I never wanted to be that couple, the one that was entirely codependent and in constant need of reassurance. I loved Simon, that much was clear. One of us traveled, for goodness sake, so we needed to roll with it. And I thought we would. I felt him next to me, and I moved just a little closer. He slipped an arm around my waist, his hand patting my arm, squeezing and just making me more aware of him. I was aware. His fingertips traced little circles around my elbow, and I sighed as he pressed a quick kiss to my forehead.

I would never need the Honey and the Baby. I just needed him and his little circles. Just needed to feel him at my side, whenever he was here.

Jill ian caught my eye from across the table and winked.

“What was that for?” I asked, sipping my second glass of brandy. Simon was going to have no trouble getting me into bed later that night, not that he ever did.

“Things worked out well, didn’t they?” she asked, looking back and forth between Simon and me.

“Couldn’t have worked out better. Subletting your apartment to me was the best decision you ever made.” I smiled, leaning into Simon as he rubbed my shoulder.

“Jill ian giving me your number so I could text you from Ireland, now that’s the best decision she ever made,” he added, winking at Benjamin from across the table.

“Oh, I don’t know. Pretending I didn’t know your mysterious neighbor was a damn good decision too,” she said, a mischievous grin lighting up her face as Simon coughed into his brandy.

“Wait, what? You knew all along I was the one living next door?” he asked, sputtering as I handed him a napkin. “But you’ve never even been to my place!”

“She hasn’t, but I have,” Benjamin spoke up, clinking his glass with his fiancée’s.

Simon and I sat pie eyed as we watched them laugh and congratulate themselves.

Well played…

“Okay, that’s the last of it. No more dishes,” Simon announced, closing the dishwasher. After everyone finally left, we decided to clean up the rest of the mess instead of leaving it for the morning after.

“Thank goodness. I’m beat.”

“And I have dishpan hands.” He winked, showing me how red they were.

“That’s the mark of a good housewife.” I just barely sidestepped his grabby hands.

“Just call me Madge and bring that fantastic ass back over here,” he fired back, snapping a dishtowel in my direction.

“This ass? This ass right here?” I asked, propping myself against the island just so, leaning forward on my elbows.

“You want to play now, is that it? Thought you were beat,” he murmured, catching my bottom in his dishpan hands and giving me a light smack.

“Maybe I’m catching my second wind.” I giggled as he promptly swept me up over his shoulder in a fireman’s hold and headed for the bedroom. Upside down, I beat my fists against his bottom and kicked, though not so much as to actually get away. His feet stopped at the bedroom door.

“Forget something today?” he asked, turning so I could see inside: stripped bed, no sheets.