Wendy & Raf & Shane
She’d grown tired of waiting for Shane—texts left unanswered, standoffish, maddeningly vague, noncommittal. And wasn’t she supposed to be the one too busy, too preoccupied to care? Too cool to risk looking desperate? But sometimes playing hard to get backfired. Men lost interest when they thought she’d lost it first.
Then there was the move, the new job, the stress piling up. That one time in the pool—unforgettable, dangerous, fully crossed off her bucket list—wasn’t enough. She wanted more. She needed more. That’s why she came here tonight.
Shane’s across the bar with her again. The redhead socialite. Rafe, or Raffy, or whatever her stupid name is. She’s perched on the stool beside him, laughing, as Wendy approaches with breezy confidence.
“Wendy,” Shane says, his glance flicking her way. Clearly caught off guard. “Didn’t expect to see you tonight.”
“Clearly.” Wendy looks to Raf. “And you are?”
“Rafaella,” she says, offering a manicured hand. “I’m helping Shane with his interiors.”
Wendy suppresses a laugh, ignoring the gesture. “Interiors? That’s what we’re calling it now?”
Stolen story; please report.
Raf glances at Shane, apparently amused. “We went furniture shopping today. Apparently, this one’s a real fan of Belgian minimalism.”
“This is furniture shopping? Do you even like shopping, Shane?”
“With the right company, he does.”
“We came here afterward,” Shane cuts in, trying to redirect.
Raf lifts her glass in an easy toast. “And we’ve been here ever since.”
“Well, I hope you’re a miracle worker,” Wendy says. “I can only imagine the disaster you’re salvaging.”
“So you’ve never been to Shane’s place? I got the sense you were… close.”
There it is. Redhead isn’t as benign as she looks. Wendy tosses her hair back as if the question barely merits her attention.
“Some of us don’t rush to redecorate on the first night.”
“Wendy, can I get you a drink?” Shane asks.
Her attention cuts back to him. “I’ll have what she’s having.”
“Tignanello,” Raf replies with a half-smile, reaching for her Goyard. “Good choice. Anyway, I should get going. I’ll drop off those swatches tomorrow, Shane.”
She leans in to kiss his cheek.
“It was nice to meet you,” she tells Wendy, perfectly pleasant. Then she walks off, pausing just long enough to throw Shane a flirty wink.
“Been seeing her long?” Wendy asks, watching her go.
“Raf and I aren’t seeing each other.”
“Could’ve fooled me.”
“It’s not like that.”
“Of course not. Just a woman helping a man pick out a sofa. That’s never complicated.”
Shane glances away, just for a second. Wendy catches it.
She raises her glass and takes a long sip. “Tignanello. Not bad, actually.”
“I thought you weren’t a wine girl.”
“I wasn’t.” She swirls the glass. “But maybe I just needed the right reason to be.”