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Needing to steel myself for whatever it is she’s wrapped in here, I take a long draw on my drink for some tequila courage. The weight of the bag gives me no clue what it could be. “I love you and I hate you.”
“Hate-love you too, Soph.” She winks. “Quit stalling and open the damn gift.”
I pull out the first package, stripping the tissue paper from it before Lauren can say anything else. “Lipstick?” I hold up the tube to examine it in the dim light of the restaurant. The black case looks expensive, though I don’t recognize the gold “KB” stamped on it. It’s a good gift, I never buy myself expensive makeup.
“Nope.” Lauren grins. “Take off the cap.”
I pull the cap off to reveal a hot pink silicone tip. “Oh my God…is that?” I slam the cap back on, my cheeks burning. “Lauren!” I hiss. “Is that a fucking vibrator?”
“That’s not even the best part.” Lauren is in hysterics. “Open the next one.” She grabs at the bag, intending to pull it out for me.
“Is it a dildo? Tell me it’s not a fucking dildo, Lauren. I am not opening a dildo in public.” I glance around wildly catching Mr. Sutton still at the bar. Is he waiting for someone? “Especially where our boss could see it.”
“Don’t be a party pooper, he’s not even paying attention to us. Like Theodore Sutton would ever deign to pay attention to the peons. He’s probably just waiting for a to-go order.”
Nervous, I unwrap the second gift. It’s small and square so at least I know I’m not about to end up waving a giant penis in the air. Pulling off the paper reveals a black jewelry box. I crack open the lid. Inside is a gold ring, one of those big statement ones, the quartz-crystal shaped top bold and exciting. Too bad I’m not bold or exciting enough to pull it off.
“Wow. Thanks, Lauren. It’s gorgeous.” It is, it really is, I’m just not cool enough to wear it myself. I pull it out of the box and slip it on the middle finger of my right hand, the ring long enough to cover my entire knuckle. This is the kind of thing Lauren would wear to work. The only ring I’ve ever worn was my wedding ring, the plain silver band all Jake and I could afford when we got married at twenty. He never bought me anything else—not that we would have had the money for it even if he’d bothered.
The weight of it on my right hand is as unfamiliar as the emptiness of my left ring finger. The more I stare at it, the more I’m convinced I’ve seen her wearing this exact ring. “Isn’t this almost exactly like the one you have?”
A mischievous grin sneaks across Lauren’s face. “It’s exactly like the one I have. It has a secret.” She pulls my hand toward her and slips the ring off my finger. “See this little circle?” She points to a button I hadn’t noticed on the underside of the decorative shape. “Tap it.”
I do, shrieking and nearly dropping it when the whole thing starts buzzing in the palm of my hand. Jess and the other girls at the table demand to see so it gets passed around, while I take a deep breath and try not to throttle my best friend. She took me and Emma in when I left Jake, I can’t kill her over a vibrator ring.
Shit. Is Sutton still here? I turn to look at the bar, praying that he’s left already. Instead, I find myself looking straight into his eyes, his long fingers wrapped around a sweating glass. He doesn’t look away. Just stares me down, those fathomless blue eyes locked on mine, ice cubes clinking as he swirls his drink. Goosebumps prickle under the sleeve of my cardigan, and my heart speeds up.
“Isn’t it the greatest? Perfect for the discreet pick-me-up when it’s been a rough day at work.” When I don’t respond, Lauren pokes me in the side, breaking the spell Sutton has me under. “When was the last time you had an orgasm, Soph? I know you wouldn’t go on a date until the divorce was official, and the papers only came yesterday.”
If it was possible for my cheeks to get any hotter, I’d give myself second-degree burns. “Two years,” I mumble under my breath.
“Two years? Did you seriously just say you haven’t had an orgasm in two years?”
I clap my hand over her mouth. Lauren’s voice is loud enough to hear clear across the room. She wrenches free from my grasp. “Woman! How are you even alive? Also, you’ve only been separated for nine months. Are you telling me that Jake left you hanging high and dry for over a year while you were still together?”
“For God’s sake, Lauren, keep your voice down.” I will myself not to glance around. If I don’t look, I won’t know if Mr. Sutton is listening to this conversation. Living in denial is better than certain death by embarrassment if I turn and he’s looking. Emma needs me, I can’t die now.
As Lauren keeps talking, the conversation turns to all the ways my ex-husband did me wrong. Starting with the lack of orgasms, continuing to how he spent money we didn’t have, and ending with the whole “sleeping with one of his model friends” that ultimately led to our divorce. I don’t have the energy to interrupt so I focus on not turning around to look for Sutton.
A flash of movement in the mirror along the wall to my right catches my eye. Sutton is taking a to-go bag from one of the hostesses. I can’t help watching as he pulls his wallet out of his pocket, the movement pushing his jacket aside and revealing the fact that the man doesn’t skip leg day at the gym. Dragging my eyes up his body, I take the opportunity to ogle to my heart’s content, the alcohol in my belly telling me it’s a fantastic idea.
My gaze finishes by tracing the strong line of his jaw, a tequila-flavored voice in the back of my head wondering what it would feel like to run my tongue along it, or what that stubble would feel like against my skin.
“Shit. Sutton is staring at you, Sophie.” Jess’s voice cuts through my fantasy, jarring me back to reality.
I meet his eyes and all the air leaves my lungs. He holds my gaze for a moment before tipping his chin an inch, one dark eyebrow lifting with the action, grabbing his order and walking out the door.
Fuck. Me.
Two
Sophie
“Mom!” Emma calls from the bedroom. “Can I borrow your white wedges?”
I drag myself off the couch so I can respond without yelling. Our one-bedroom apartment is small, but that doesn’t mean I want to holler across the space. “Why?” I ask, standing in the doorway.
“I was going to go to a movie with Bella and Mike.” She pulls a cardigan over her crop top and jeans.
