Thankfully, my drink arrives, and I immediately take a too-large gulp. "We didn't actually sleep together," I say, setting the glass down carefully. "Not technically."
Her eyebrows climb toward her hairline. "Define technically."
Images flash through my mind; Sebastian's hands on my skin, his mouth between my thighs, the way he looked up at me just before—
"Earth to Mia." Laney snaps her fingers in front of my face. "Your eyes just glazed over and you're blushing harder than that time you had to present the rectal prolapse case to the board."
I readjust my napkin, smoothing nonexistent wrinkles. "We spent the weekend together. It was... intense."
"Intense how? Like, emotionally intense? Physically intense? Both?" She leans so far forward I worry she might fall into my lap. "Did he give you multiple orgasms?"
"Are you kidding me?" I cover my face with my hands. "Can we please talk about literally anything else? Like your birthday? Which is why we're here?"
"My birthday happens every year. You finally getting horizontal with Walker is a once-in-a-lifetime cosmic event." She takes another sip of her drink. “Somethingisfinally happening with you two then?”
Something is definitely happening, but for whatever reason I don’t want to talk about it. It’s not that I don’t trust my best friend—I trust her with my life—it’s just that everything is so new and I’m still figuring it all out.
I stare intently at my drink, watching condensation slide down the glass. "Can we please drop this?" I beg, tucking another strand of hair behind my ear even though it wasn't loose. "I'll tell you more later, I promise. Just not... here."
Laney studies me for a moment before her expression softens. "Hey, are you okay? Did he do something shitty? Because birthday or not, I will go over there and remove his testicles with a rusty spoon if he hurt you."
"No, nothing like that," I assure her quickly. "It's just... complicated."
"Because he's your boss."
"Because he's Sebastian Walker," I correct her. "Because one minute he's ice cold and the next he's... not." I swirl my straw through my drink, watching the lime wedge bob. "And I don't know what any of it means."
"Does it have to mean something?" Laney asks, unusually serious. "Maybe it's just really good sex. Or almost-sex. Whatever."
I think about Sebastian's hands on me, yes, but also about the way he told me about his brother, about the ranch, about the scars he carries that have nothing to do with barbed wire. I think about how his voice sounded when he said my name, not as a command, but as something precious.
"Maybe," I say, not looking up.
Laney must hear something in my voice because she reaches across the table and squeezes my hand. "As long as you're happy, I'm happy."
I squeeze back, grateful for her understanding. "I'm not sure happy is the right word, but I'm... something."
"Something is better than nothing." She raises her glass. "To something."
I laugh and clink my glass against hers. "To something. And to you, birthday queen."
The conversation shifts then, to Laney's latest dating disaster and the hot doctor from ortho she has her eye on. I listen and laugh in all the right places, but part of my mind keeps drifting back to Cheryl's room, to the vow I made. The weight of it sits alongside thoughts of Sebastian, two separate gravity wells pulling at me.
"—and then he asked if I could examine his rash, right there in the middle of the coffee shop," Laney says as our entrees arrive. She pauses, eyeing me. "And now you're thinking about Walker again, aren't you?"
"What? No." I shake my head.
Laney's arm slides around my shoulders, pulling me into a half-hug. "You know, I expect a full report on what exactly happened this weekend. With diagrams, if necessary."
"Eat your dinner," I tell her, fighting a smile. "It's getting cold."
"Fine, fine." She cuts into her steak dramatically. "But don't think this gets you off the hook. I want the entire dirty story later."
I roll my eyes but can't help laughing. Even with everything churning inside me—Cheryl, Sebastian, my father—Laney's presence grounds me. Reminds me there are simple joys worth holding onto.
"Wouldn't dream of it," I tell her, and mean it.
The rest of dinner goes by in a fit of laughter. And by the time we exit the bistro and Laney loops her arm through mine, my cheeks actually hurt. It’s a welcome counterpoint to the heaviness that's been sitting in my chest all day.
