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Work provides a much needed escape. Keeps my thoughts from circling the drain too quickly, too often. I promised my agent I’d send him fifty or so completed pages of the book by the end of the week, so it’s off to the races.
I blog a lot, too, and get in some pretty great interaction with my readers. It’s clear they are very excited about the concept for this book.
Doesn’t hurt that my post-orgasmic glow is providing unreal inspiration in the kitchen. I spend my days at the stove, whipping up new ideas and new recipes with a ferocity I’ve never experienced before. At night, thousands of words pour out of my fingers as I type like a lunatic on my laptop.
“What the hell are you humming?” Alex asks one afternoon when she stops by for lunch. “Wait, is that—holy shit, it’s ‘I Wanna Sex You Up,’ isn’t it? Wow. Just…wow. You’re definitely swapping more than spit with Ford Montgomery.”
I tilt my head and grin, giving my lemon and dijon mustard vinaigrette one last whisk before pouring it over the salad I threw together.
“Aw, yeah,” she continues. “Evie, you’re…I mean, you’re radiant.”
Radiant, and torn. Which is why I find myself on Julia’s front porch on Wednesday afternoon, a bowl of freshly made pozole in my arms.
If anyone can help untangle the mess in my head, it’s Julia. College lit professor, devourer of romance, and a newly minted mother herself.
As instructed, I let myself in. I find Julia sitting on a sofa in the living room, one eye screwed up as a tiny infant appears to munch down on her nipple.
“Yes, I’m fine,” she says, answering my unspoken question. “But my God does breastfeeding hurt like a bitch. At least at first. One of the many lovely things no one tells you about having a newborn.”
One of the many lovely things about Julia is her honesty. Girl’s never been afraid of the truth. I’ve always admired that about her.
“Anything I can do?”
“There should be a bottle of Chardonnay in the fridge. Pour yourself a glass of that and pour me some water if you don’t mind. Then come sit! I’m going a little stir crazy—so happy to have company. And real food.”
I wag my eyebrows. “Pozole. I know it’s your favorite.”
“Your mom’s recipe? Hell yes.” She grabs my hand and gives it a squeeze. “You’re the best. Thank you, friend.”
“Anytime. I told you I’m more than happy to cook for y’all.”
I put the bowl in the fridge and emerge from the kitchen with wine in one hand and water in the other. Julia takes a big gulp of water and closes her eyes, letting out an equally long sigh.
It hits me how tired she looks. Tired but happy. Dark circles underneath her eyes, but a small smile on her lips.
“Breastfeeding makes me so thirsty.” She nods at my wine. “Although I wish I were drinking that right now.”
I nod at the baby. “How’re things?”
“They’re going.” Julia takes another sip of water before setting it on the coffee table. “I was warned that the first month or two are terrible. Physically, I feel like I’m finally turning a corner. My vagina is still a scary place, but it doesn’t hurt as much anymore. My nipples though?” She winces. “The pain is real. I was just telling Grey how they look like ground taco meat.”
“That sounds terrifying.”
“It is. But this little guy is pretty damn cute”—she takes him off her boob and holds him up, smiling—“so I don’t mind it quite as much.” He opens his mouth and lets out a wail. “Except when he does that. That, I do mind.”
“Grey doing okay?”
Julia grins, guiding her boob back into Parker’s mouth. “Grey is doing great. Don’t get me wrong, we’ve had several meltdowns over the past couple weeks. Newborns are hard on your relationship. If anyone tells you otherwise, they’re full of shit. But overall, he’s been awesome. It makes my heart happy to see him with the baby. Never would’ve guessed the grumpy guy I first met would take to fatherhood so well.” She grabs her water glass and takes another sip. “Speaking of the Montgomerys—last time we chatted, you had, and I quote, ‘hung out once or twice’ with Ford. What’s the latest on that? Still ‘just a summer fling?’”
I roll my fingertips up the stem of my wine glass. “That’s actually part of the reason why I wanted to come over. I need your advice.”
“Ah. So more than a fling, then.”
“Much more.”
“Uh-oh. I thought you weren’t going to let him break your heart again.”
I take a breath. Take a sip of wine. “That was the plan. But then we dry humped to Biggie and had orgasms on his boat. Ford’s boat, not Biggie’s. He not only helped jumpstart my cooking muse, but also hosted a tasting for our families and friends so I could get feedback on some new recipes I’m trying out. He makes me feel like I can do anything. Get through anything. He’s excellent, and I’m pretty sure he’s everything I’ve ever wanted.”
