Page 50 of Bloom

“Cry.” I shrugged and tried to think of what I’d actually do. “No, that’s it. I’d cry and be heartbroken and sad for all eternity.”

“Oh great.” He threw up his hands and went back to pushing the trolley. “No pressure then.”

I stood there in the middle of the aisle until I noticed the pita crackers that weresogood with hummus. I grabbed a packet and had to power walk to catch up to Cory.

“So, tell me about last night,” I said.

He turned, holding a box of cold-brew sachets. “Oh my god.” He threw the box into the trolley and took a jar of coffee from the shelf. It was cylindrical and he couldn’t get his hand around it. “This big, I’m telling you. I thought I was going to split in half.”

I took the coffee from him and gave the poor woman with unfortunate timing an apologetic smile. “Jesus, Cory.”

He was undeterred. “It was so good. So much better this time around.”

“Wait . . .Thistime?”

Cory smirked and gave a smug sniff. Then he held up three fingers. “Third time.”

“With the same guy?” I might have shrieked that, so I tried again much quieter and with less astonishment. “You had a repeat with the same guy?”

The fact it was three times was beside the point. He never did the same guy twice. Ever. But three times?

“And you never told me this?” I was dumbfounded. “Details, Cory. Now.”

He laughed. “Remember that stallion that offered full servicing?”

“Yes. With the...” I held up the jar of coffee.

“His name is Amon. He’s Egyptian. Well, his parents are. He was born here.”

“Wait. You know details? You had a personal conversation with him?” I had to lean against the shelving. “Oh my god.”

He gave me a shove. “Oh, shut up. I’ve spoken to the others. Sometimes. Like, once or twice.”

Oh, please. He was lucky to ever even get a name.

“And you’ve met this Amon at the same bar three times? Deliberately?”

“First time was when I was with you. Never seen him before then. Second time was maybe lined up, and third time was at his place.” He was fighting a smile. “After he took me out for dinner.”

A date?

“A date?” I might have shrieked that too. “You went out on a date and you didn’t think to tell me?”

“I am telling you right now. The date was last night,” he replied. “And you and I have been here for all of twenty minutes and we haven’t stopped talking about you long enough to get to me.”

That stopped me.

All indignation deflated. “That’s true. Sorry.” I frowned at him. “I’m a shitty friend, sorry.”

“You’re not. You’re the bestest friend ever.” He began walking again and I hurried to fall into step with him. “I thought you were sworn off men for all eternity.”

“I was. Until him.”

He plucked a bottle of probiotics from the health food shelf. “Here. You’re going to need these for all the magic-mushroom dick you’ll be getting.”

I took the bottle and smiled at a guy who was looking at vitamin pills but now took a sidestep away from us.

“What?” Cory asked him. “Gut health is important.”