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“Sort of.” She shrugged. “Once they’re happy in retirement land, you can let them know thatyouare happy without the wholefamily and kids thing. Just give them enough comfort to make them move.”
“I wish it was that easy, but we’re pretty close. It isn’t realistic that I’d be seeing someone and have zero proof.” I shook my head and said, “My dad actually asked me to ‘milk’ our friendship and let my mom think it has potential. All so he can buy a boat.”
“Our friendship?” she asked, narrowing her eyes and pointing back and forth between us with her index finger and pinkie, just like the groom had done.
“Yes, Spider-Man.”
She winked and said, “Do you know what milking entails, exactly?”
“What are you thinking, Steinbeck?”
“Well. What if we both ‘milk’ the friendship?” she asked, her face instantly changing into strategic planner mode. “Think about it. We could literally say, ‘We’re just friends,’ to everyone—so we’re not lying—while just... being friends. You know, like hanging out and randomly posting photos of us together on social media.”
“That doesn’t seem like a solid long-term plan, does it?”
“Oh, it’s not. But we don’t need long-term. We just need to do it long enough for everyone to get that ‘ha ha, sure, they’re just friends’ smirk on their faces while they stop worrying about our love lives and give us what we want.”
There was no way it could work.
Could it?
“I don’t know, Soph,” I said, torn between knowing it was ridiculous and really wanting it to work. “It sounds more like a rom-com plot than an actual thing that will produce results.”
“But.” She pushed her empty plate into the center of the table and dusted off her hands. “We losenothingby trying. Neither of us are interested in being in a relationship, so we don’t have toworry about that. We’re not lying, we’re not pretending—we’re just being friends.”
I... shit, I couldn’t argue with that, could I?
“The only change to our lives is that we’re hanging out more and posting photos on our socials, Max.”
I knew there was something very wrong with this plan, but at that moment, I couldn’t come up with what it was. “Fine. Will you be my friend, Sophie?”
“A thousand times yes, Maxxie.”
twenty-one
Sophie
“Larry can doit.”
Max gave me a weird look as we approached my door. “You really think he’s going to be up?”
“It’s only like eleven,” I said, pulling my keys out of my clutch. “He’s a total night owl.”
I unlocked the door and pushed it open, relieved that I could hear the TV.
For two reasons.
First, I really wanted Larry to be awake because Max and I were going to ask him to take some photos of us that we could post.
Second, I didn’t trust myself not to attack Max after the kiss at the side of the restaurant. It had been better than the first, if that was even possible, and ever since the wordsexhad come out of my mouth, I’d been distracted by the thought of having I’m-getting-mine sex with him.
I want your hands on me.
I might never be over that moment.
I dropped my keys on the table beside the door and went in, leaning down to scratch Karen and Joanne, still carrying my pumps by my fingers because I hadn’t wanted to put them back on my feet. I sensed Max following me in, and when we reached the living room (no sign of Larry even thoughFriendswas on), I turned around.
And he lifted his phone and took a picture of me.
