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to Shane.
    He smiled. “She’s actually coming into town on Friday to watch my game on Saturday night, so maybe I can introduce you.”
    I clapped my hands together. “I would love that! Are you going to bring her to the big JAG party on Friday night?”
    “I don’t know if we’ll be able to make the party, but we’ll try,” he said.
    “Don’t forget to introduce us, too,” Kent said. “Man, married to Kristina Santana. Go figure.”
    I punched him in the shoulder. “ Go figure? Who says that?”
    “Chill, Bryson,” he said, rubbing his shoulder. “So, how long have you and Kristina been married?”
    Shane picked up a forkful of tiramisu. “Almost five years. Are any of you married?”
    “Four years, two kids,” Kent said.
    “Living in sin, five years, no kids,” Davey said.
    They all looked at me.
    “Can you pass the sugar, please?” I said.
    Davey shook his head. “Waverly is what you call a heartbreaker,” he said to Shane. “Stomps all over them.”
    “That’s not true,” I said.
    “She even broke off an engagement last year,” Davey said.
    Kent looked at me. “You were engaged? I didn’t know that. What happened?” he said.
    I swallowed and looked above him at the wall. “Um, it, uh, it just didn’t work out,” I said.
    “She crushed the dude,” Davey said. “Called it off two weeks before the big day. Poor guy never had a chance.”
    I poured some sugar in my coffee and sighed. “Can we please change the subject? I’m sure Shane doesn’t want to hear about this.”
    “You know, Waverly, you’ve got to lower your standards,” Davey said. “The way I see it, dating is like being in the jungle. Now, a relationship is a vine, and when things don’t work out, you’re basically hanging from a vine that ain’t swinging anymore. Now, you may want to jump to another vine, a healthier vine, a more supportive vine, or maybe a more exciting vine, but if none of the other vines are good enough for you, or if you just don’t have enough energy to make the jump, you’re going to spend the rest of your life clinging to the lifeless bottom of a dead vine just so you don’t fall into the abyss below.” He accompanied this speech with sweeping apelike arm gestures and a variety of animal sounds.
    There it was, my dysfunctional love life, acted out in a crowded restaurant by a 34-year-old monkey.
    “Well done, man. Well done.” Kent stood up and clapped.
    Davey bowed his head. “I’ll leave a tip jar outside my room.”
    “Thank you for that, Davey, now will you please stop talking?” I said.
    Shane looked at me. “Why do you call this guy Davey anyway?”
    I pointed at Davey. “Just look at that cute little boy face. How can you not call him Davey? And I’m sort of a nickname person.”
    Davey rolled his eyes. “Thanks, Bryson. Cute little boy face is just what a grown man wants to hear. Anyhow, Shane, I really think Waverly should put herself out there more, because in my professional opinion—”
    I looked up from my coffee cup. “In your professional opinion?”
    He nodded. “Yes, in my professional opinion, Miss Bryson here is a classic ringleader of what I like to call the Circle of Hatred, which for centuries has defeated even the bravest of single men.”
    Shane and Kent both put their forks down.
    “You’ve got to be kidding me,” I said. “The Circle of Hatred? What is that?”
    “It’s the ring of negative energy emitted by packs of pretty women in bars. Do you know how terrifying it is for a mere mortal to attempt to cross that force field? Just trying to strike up a conversation can cause years of emotional damage.”
    “The Circle of Hatred?” Shane said.
    Davey nodded. “Totally toxic.”
    “Oh, Davey, you’ve outdone yourself this time.” I buried my face in my hands.
    “Bravo,” Kent said.
    Shane was smiling, but he clearly thought we were insane.

    After dinner, Shane headed back to his hotel, and Davey and Kent went off to a party thrown by