“You've been on one date so far,” her friend reminded her.
“Yeah, but it was the worst.”
Jake set her drink in front of her and leaned over the bar, apparently eager to hear a horror story. “How bad was it?”
Caitlyn sighed. “The only thing more depressing than wasting an evening on a date from hell is having to relive said date for one's happy couple friends.”
Meg rolled her eyes. “Oh, stop whining. We could use a good laugh.”
They were watching her with expectant looks, and Caitlyn resigned herself to the inevitable. “Fine, but you two are buying my drinks tonight.”
By the time she was finished recounting the story, Caitlyn found herself laughing alongside her friends. “God, how pathetic am I that I actually sat there for an hour?”
Meg nodded and picked at the bowl of popcorn sitting between them. “Mmm, I would have walked out immediately.”
Jake leaned against the bar with a mocking grin. “So he was no Cary Grant then, huh?”
Meg stifled a laugh as Caitlyn tipped up her nose and pointedly ignored the comment. All of her friends thought it was hilarious that she was actually seeking her dream man. Granted, her dream man had died decades before, but still—was it too much to ask to find a sexy, chivalrous, self-deprecating, gallant, charming, and witty single man in the city?
Apparently so.
When her ex had dealt the deathblow to their long-term relationship, she’d fallen into a bit of a depression, if she was being honest. She’d thought they were happy, that they’d had a future. He was supposed to be the one. Her life partner. The man she would grow old with. They’d never really talked about marriage and kids, but Caitlyn had assumed it was just a matter of time. Once he grew up a bit, surely he would want to settle down. After all, they were happy—or content, anyway.
Or at least she’d thought they had been. But looking back, she was no longer sure. The day he’d broken up with her was the day the rug had been pulled out from under her feet. Her perfectly content world tipped over. It was all over. Like someone had snapped shut a book they were finished reading and moved on to the next one on the shelf.
Her friends had done their best to drag her out of her funk, but for a solid six months she’d grieved for the life she wouldn’t have. No longer able to envision her future, she’d found it hard to know where she was in the present. For the first time since her parents died, she’d been aimless. Lost.
It still wasn’t easy, but at least she’d fallen into a rhythm and forged new habits and pastimes over the past few months.
When she’d finally caved and let her friends convince her that it was time to get back on the horse, she’d felt the first glimmer of hope. Maybe her ex wasn’t the one. Clearly he wasn’t or he wouldn’t have left. Maybe there was someone better out there—someone who fulfilled her wildest dreams. Sitting in front of her computer, staring at all of the limitless options, the huge unseen universe of potential mates—she’d finally been able to see that there might be a new and exciting relationship in her future.
So why not aim for the best? Why not set out to find the ideal man of her dreams? And that was Cary Grant. It had been since she was eight and she’d stumbled upon Bringing Up Baby one rainy weekend afternoon. She’d known then and there that he was her perfect man—always had been and always would be.
She was certain there were men out there that embodied his charm and chivalry—his kindness and warmth. She just hadn’t met one yet. But he was out there, she knew it. And this time when she fell for someone, she would make sure he was the spitting image of her perfect leading man.
Caitlyn let out a wistful sigh and Meg patted her arm. “Cheer up, buttercup. Maybe if you’re this pathetic tomorrow, Tamara will pick Cary Grant for the next weekend double feature.”
Caitlyn’s eyes widened with excitement. “Ooh, you think?”
Every other Saturday for the past two years, Caitlyn, Meg, Jake, and a few of their friends volunteered alongside Tamara to keep the Ellen Theater in some semblance of working order. The current owner had let the place fall into disrepair over the past decade, which was not only bad for the neighboring bar’s business, but just plain sad. There wasn’t much they could do as far as restoring the architecture of the old theater, but they did what they could to keep the interior clean and functioning.
Meg had recruited her younger sister, Alice, and Tamara had enlisted her roommate, Marc. They’d named themselves “Operation Petticoat” for the Cary Grant movie of the same name, thanks to a comment by Jake about how they were attempting to save a sinking ship. It turned out to be a rather fitting name for a bunch of classic movie nerds. Like the film, they were a motley crew, to be sure. But they shared a love of old movies and that, plus the free drinks that Jake provided at the bar next door, had been enough to cement the crew’s friendship.
“Jake has been trying to sweet talk Tamara into picking a James Cagney lineup this week,” Meg said, nodding toward her husband, who was pouring a draught beer at the other end of the bar.
“I can’t compete with that. Jake has the whole ‘I’ll give you free drinks for life’ edge,” Caitlyn whined.
Meg cocked her head and made a show of studying her friend. “Normally I’d say you’re right, but you are so pathetic right now that you just might win.”
Caitlyn laughed and smacked her friend on the arm as she finished off the last of her drink. “Gee, thanks.”
* * * *
Ben’s hangover was officially into its second day. Which was unfair, really. When had he gotten so old that hangovers were multi-day events? But then, he’d been on an epic binge the other night, so it was only fair that his hangover be equally epic. He just wished the night had been epic. He assumed it hadn’t been, since he could barely remember it. Surely if it had been epic, it would have been memorable.
As if a two-day hangover wasn’t bad enough, the sound of his oldest friend being yelled at by a shrieking demon was definitely not helping. He tried to block out the sounds of the couple fighting in the other room of the penthouse suite, but it was no use. His best friend’s girlfriend was so loud the neighbors on the first floor must have been well aware of her fury. Though their fighting was preferable. He couldn’t even imagine how painfully awkward it would be to be crashing with a happy couple after a breakup.
He’d even put on some earphones to drown them out with music, but the sound of his name thrown out like a weapon was inescapable. Cringing, he pulled off the earphones and gave in to the urge to eavesdrop now that the conversation had turned to him.
It wasn’t exactly breaking news that Vanessa was pissed he was staying with them. But to be fair, it had only been a few weeks, and it wasn’t his fault that his condo wasn’t ready yet or that he’d been forced to leave his own pleasant, cozy home thanks to his cheating skank of an ex.
Still, he’d known from the beginning that he couldn’t take Gregory up on his offer to crash for too long, not with the state his relationship was in. Jesus, at least he and Olivia had skipped this kind of toxic despair. Finding your girlfriend in bed with your workmate was not ideal, but at least it had managed to end their relationship quickly and all at once. It had been a swift deathblow rather than this slow torturous death that Gregory seemed to be suffering through with this on-again, off-again relationship.
But still. He’d never intended to stay as long as he had, and he certainly didn’t want to add any more issues to his friend’s full plate. So he dialed his executive assistant at the office. “Hey, Natalie.”
“Are you coming in today?” she answered. He could hear the sounds of the office and was struck with a hint of homesickness.
Ben rubbed his eyes with his palms. She’d asked the same question every