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into my thigh. Legally, it beats sinking them into his perfect, arrogant throat. Though it’s not nearly as satisfying.
    Nate shrugs. “I blame it on society selling women—and men, to be fair—a bill of goods. Men, we’ve got the Sports Illustrated swimwear issue and porn to get us started down the path to inevitable disappointment. With women, it starts even earlier, in infancy. You know. Disney princesses and all that other horseshit.”
    Horseshit? Fuck you. I will defend my Belle and Mulan awesome warrior princess road comedy fan fiction to the fucking death.
    “So what you’re saying is that love, chemistry, mutual happiness, it’s all a huge fucking farce?” Meredith says, her voice so flat it could be mistaken for a county in Nebraska.
    Tyler is staring at all of us with his mouth slightly open. Clearly, he doesn’t know what to say.
    “I should be grateful. If people didn’t swallow the wrong messages, the wrong ideas about lasting love, I’d be out of a job,” Nate says, staring me right in the eyes. “How about you, Ms. Stevens? Found your happy ending yet?”
    I could lie to him. But before I think to do anything that smart, I tell the truth.
    “I’m divorced.” I swallow after I say it. No matter how many times I speak the words, think them, it’s still a gut punch.
    “I see,” he says, no emotion in his voice. His dark blue eyes seem to sparkle with gleeful light. “Too bad you didn’t come to me. I could’ve gotten you a hell of a settlement.”
    My life is in tatters, and this asshole is making jokes about it. Apparently even his friends think this is over the line.
    “Nate, what the fuck?” Mike says. His eyes are flashing, angry. The normal one has had enough. “The fuck is wrong with you, man?”
    And for the first time, I see Nate the Tightass freeze and look regretful. Not because of me, probably, but he’s basically pissing on the idea of lasting love at his friend’s goddamn bachelor party. Nate clears his throat.
    “I’m only saying what my experience has been,” he says at last, though maybe with the tiniest hint of remorse.
    And I could be the grown-up here, get up and walk away all nice and quiet. But lucky me, the booze arrives just as I’ve reached my limit. Three scotch on the rocks. Before he can take the glasses, I grab one tumbler.
    “Experience this,” I say, dumping the expensive contents on his shirt. He jumps like a very alcoholic spider just bit him. I slam the glass down, grab my trusty purple suitcase, and roll away at high speed.
    Blood’s pounding in my temples, and the edges of my vision are blurring with tears.
    Calm down. Be one with the Force. Use every Jedi mind trick you know.
    “Hey,” Shanna gasps, rushing up beside me. I slow down. Just a bit. “That got really intense, huh?” Her eyes widen. I sigh.
    “Sorry. It’s been kind of a weird month.”
    “‘Experience this.’ I fucking love it. What a line,” Meredith says, waltzing up beside me. She puts an arm around my shoulders. “Think of it this way, hon. This is a big city, big enough to lose even the smuggest of assholes. Feel better.”
    “Thanks,” I mutter, hugging her in return. She’s got a point. One nice thing is the hotel is huge and the convention is busy. I never have to see that jackass again.

5
    Julia
    I can’t believe I slept with that jackass. What is wrong with me?
    All right, don’t panic Julia.
    Frazzled, I take the elevator down to ten and hustle back to my room. The plastic key card slips out of my hands once, twice, until finally I get the door open and stumble inside. I walk into the bedroom, grateful for the fact that at least the curtains are still drawn. The room exists in that cozy almost twilight, Shanna’s bed still rumpled from having been slept in. Mine, on the other hand, is pristine, the sheets perfect, the pillows plumped. Never made it back here last night.
    Oh God. Think, Julia. Did you actually do the nasty? Did you fuck the Worst Guy