George looked up when Nancy stormed into the sports bar. "Things not go well?"

"I need a drink before I talk about it."

George chuckled and gestured to the bartender for another round, as Nancy slid onto the next stool, shoving her purse onto the bar and tossing her hair back. "You know, as much as I hate the fact that Bess is with Kent right now, I think if she comes home in this mood that I'm just going to pour you each five shots and go to bed."

Nancy kept her furious gaze on the flat-panel hanging over the bar for another second before she turned around to look at George. "Do you know what he said?"

"No, but I'm sure it was bad." George pushed the shot glass the bartender poured toward Nancy, then lifted her own drink.

"He said—he said he understood why Frank had broken up with me. That he felt sorry for him."

"Man, you guys must have had some fight."

"But we didn't!" Nancy downed the shot, then winced and took a long sip of her chaser. "We were in the backseat of the car, and..."

George lifted a hand. "You can stop there."

"No... not like that..."

Over another few rounds of drinks, the end of the game, and selecting their pool cues, Nancy spilled the whole thing to George, who was chuckling by the end. "He actually said that?"

"Yes. He said that." Nancy chalked her cue angrily. "So I told him to get out of my car, and then I called you, and here we are."

George made a faint incredulous noise. "No you didn't."

"Oh yes I did."

George racked up the balls, shaking her head. "Well, I have to hand it to you. So how long are you going to keep him waiting for it?"

Nancy threw the chalk at George. "Very funny."

"Or at least until you're going to start taking his calls again." George broke. "You're stripes."

Nancy surveyed the table, considering. "I don't know," she said. "I mean, he's been working on that project for the whole damn week, almost, and I don't know the last time he slept..."

"So you'll both sleep on it, and he'll call tomorrow and say he's ashamed of what he said tonight, and then everything will be fine. Right?"

Nancy met George's eyes and gave her a half-smile. "He's no Kent, right?"

George sighed. "You know, I love Bess to death, she's great, and I wouldn't change her for worlds. Except for her abysmal taste in men. That, I'd change in a minute."

"I know. She's one of the sweetest girls I know, but every time, every single time..."

George smiled. "How many times have we had this conversation?"

"I don't even know," Nancy admitted, lining up her own shot. "I guess it just hurt to hear him say it."

George mentally shifted gears and nodded. "Have you talked to Frank, since...?"

Nancy shook her head, brushing her hair out of her face. "I keep... I know I probably should, but I just can't."

"I'm kind of surprised."

"Why?" Nancy paused with her stick resting on the edge of the table, loose in her hand.

"You were with him forever." George ducked away and didn't meet Nancy's gaze.

"Yeah, and then I saw the look on Ned's face after I told him that I was twenty-five and hadn't had sex yet. It's just, for so long, I thought it would be Frank, it would just happen after we were married, but then we never were..."

"Not from his lack of trying."

"But it never... it never felt right."

"You still feel that way?"

Nancy held her tongue until she took her shot, then trained her gaze on George. "Why are we talking about this?"

"I guess, with everything that Bess has been going through, and she has been going through a lot... and you seemed so happy with Frank."

Nancy smiled. "There at the beginning, yeah,"

George nodded. "I don't know. I guess I just don't want everything to implode again."

"Everything's not going to implode... damn, scratch. George," Nancy said, stepping back from the table, "what we need to do is find you a boyfriend."

George chuckled. "Ohhh, no. No, thank you. Watching you two go through every predicament known to man is enough for me."

"Ned and I will get through this. We'll be fine. And then we'll sit Bess down and tell her about how a decent guy is supposed to act. Maybe try some scary online dating service."

"Ohhh, no, we aren't. Remember the time she answered a personal ad?" George asked. "Nix on that. At least, not until we screen the guys."

Nancy smiled. "Okay, so... we'll find her a nice doctor..."

"Podiatrist," George decided, lining up her shot. "So he'll have good money, but he won't be too proud and he won't sleep around on her."

"Right," Nancy nodded. "And for you?"

"I'm gonna need another drink for this," George announced, signaling to the waitress.

"I can't wait." Nancy crossed her arms over her chest. "One for me, too."

After her fourth shot they were only knocking the balls around on the table, laughing at each other, and Nancy dug her cell phone out of her purse. "Should I turn it back on?"

"And call him?"

"Noooo," Nancy protested. "I'm not gonna call him. He can sit and rot in that parking lot for all I care."

"With Bess's imaginary podiatrist, and my stock market analyst..."

"Oh come on, he can be anything. Why not make him a porn star?"

"So he'll leave me in the morning with a cup of coffee and a scorching case of herpes? No thanks."

"Yeah." Nancy sighed. "Okay, so, who should I get?"

"You mean after our next shot?"

"As long as you didn't drive here." Nancy giggled.

George ordered a margarita from the bemused waitress, then turned back to her friend. "Okay. So. You go on world tour as a backup singer for the Rolling Stones, and when you're in Japan you manage to recover the kidnapped heir to the throne, and in thanks, they marry you off to whoever it is that's supposed to be in charge of England. Well, the next guy, at least. On the day before your wedding, Ned flies all the way to London to find you, and he begs you to take him back, and you say..."

"I say," Nancy announced, giving up on the pool game entirely, "that if he wanted me, he wouldn't have said he felt sorry for my ex-boyfriend!"

George nodded sagely. "Right."

"You know what I think?"

"What do you think?" George lifted her glass to toast Nancy's daiquiri.

"I think you've been sneaking Bess's romance novels."

"I would never, ever do that," George said in mock outrage. "Never. Unless I ran out of things to read, and I was waiting for the lasagna to cool off."

Nancy giggled and took a long sip of her daiquiri, then grimaced. "Okay, that's it for me."

"No driving?"

"Definitely no driving," Nancy confirmed. "No driving, and probably no happiness tomorrow, either. Although I feel awesome right now."

"So it must be time for us to go home."

"And pointedly ignore Ned's calls."

"Exactly," George said. "That's exactly what I was thinking. Ignore Ned's calls, and hope that Kent doesn't even make any."

Nancy sighed. "You know, I even tried to talk to her about him. She just won't even listen."

"She will," George said, shaking her head. "When it's too late, she'll listen."

In the back of the cab Nancy fanned herself, the sweater already off and draped over her arm. George snatched Nancy's phone out of her purse when her forehead was pressed against the cooler window, and Nancy cried out in outrage when she saw George turn the phone back on.

"Ooh, two missed calls."

"Give that back," Nancy cried, snatching it out of her hand. She pouted when she checked the call time. "He's probably asleep by now," she mumbled.

"What did you expect?"

"I don't know," Nancy said grumpily, tossing the phone back into her purse and crossing her arms. "Boys," she muttered.

Her mood persisted through the entire ride back, and she was quiet when she and George came to the front door of their apartment, studying her shoes.

Then she saw the other pair of shoes, the legs stretched out across the hall, the styrofoam cup of coffee resting on the hardwood, and the naked uncertain expression of Ned's face as he studied her eyes.

"Hey," he whispered.

"Hey," Nancy replied.