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You gotta be so on the nose, universe?
“Y’all have a nice walk?” I ask, my face smarting from the cold bottle.
Jen nods. “I ran into Dad.”
“Oh yeah?” I say this casually, like my stomach isn’t heaving. “He was looking for you earlier.”
“You know what he said? That he was surprised it took us this long to get together.”
“No shit.”
“I was shocked.” Her eyes flick to meet mine. “I mean, I’ve never said anything to him about us. Have you?”
“No.” The reply flies off my tongue too quickly. “Of course not. Why would I?”
She gets this pained look on her face. She as tired of my pretending as I am?
Does she know I love her? She has to know after last night. Or maybe?—
“Right. It’s silly.” She sips her coffee.
I could change the subject. Ishouldchange the subject. But I’m lying to everyone else. I don’t want to lie to her.
“Is it, though?” I ask, pretending to drink my own coffee when really, I’m trying not to vomit. “We’ve been friends for a really long time. We’re different, yeah, but I guess we have some of the same interests.”
Her eyes flash. “I guess so, yeah.”
“You’re gorgeous. I’m gorgeous.”
That makes her smile. Teeth and everything.I wanna love you, baby, but I’d rather die than hurt you.
“Keep going,” she teases.
“You know what you want, and you’re not afraid to ask for it anymore. That’s sexy as hell.”
Her cheeks flush pink. “I’m working on it.”
“You’re you.” I lift the bottle off my face. “And you, I like.”
The green in her eyes seems to deepen. Or maybe that’s just my sleep-deprived, possibly concussed brain playing tricks on me. “You’re considerate.”
“Nowthatis sexy.”
“But it is!” She laughs. “You make great coffee.”
“Aw, baby, I amfeelingthe love.”
She’s still laughing. My heart is doing backflips now. “You’re kind and you’re generous, and you work your ass off to be good to the people in your life. You’re talented. You’re hot. You have excellent taste in art and tequila. But most of all, you’re”—she does the motion for chef’s kiss, bringing her fingertips to her mouth—“in bed.”
Yep, that’s my dick going full salute. And that’s my heart pounding its way right out of my chest as I guffaw to hide my horror at handing it over so easily in my kitchen on a Sunday morning.
Who am I kidding? I handed my heart to Jen years ago.
“How are you feeling?” I ask.
She sets down her mug. “Physically? Just fine. I’m glad I took the Advil. I think it helped.”
“Good.”
