“So what did you do?”
“I laughed in his face and told him to give himself a blow job.”
“Sounds about right.” Cleo took orders and made drinks while Molly flicked through the Lucy Score novel.
“What is it about these romance books you like so much? There’s no blood, mayhem or death, there’s no action or fighting, it’s all just… love and feels.”
“There’s a guaranteed happy ever after, Mol.” Cleo popped her head over the top of the coffee machine in time to catch another Olympic standard eye roll from her friend. “There’s a comfort in that. Knowing that no matter what happens, they’ll get their happy ending.”
One of the customers dreamy-sighed as Cleo handed her an oversized mug of hot chocolate. The cream and marshmallows bobbed and swayed as she accepted the mug and handed over her punch card with a crumpled five dollar bill. “She’s right. It’s the dreamiest thing. Couple meets, couple falls in love, something disastrous pulls the couple apart, but they overcome it and find their way to their forever. It’s darling!”
Molly pointed her index finger toward the back of her open mouth. “Gag. Puke. Vomit. Real life doesn’t work like that.”
Cleo opened her mouth to reply, but the customer got there first.
“But itcould. It gives you hope.”
“Hope that a ripped, God-like man with a delicious V leading into his grey sweatpants and a cock as big as my forearm will appear in your life? You mean it’ll give you fantasy fodder? Or hope that you’ll have some charming meet-cute, never fight over who does the dishes, or the fact he never picks up his mother-fucking socks and puts theminthe laundry basket. There’ll never be that ‘what do you feel like?’ ‘I dunno, what do you feel like?’ discussion because they both magically speak each other’s language and never fight over the take out menu or what to watch on TV. It all sounds so delightfully dull.”
The customer grinned. “It’s notdull.”
“It’s predictable.” Molly pointed an accusatory finger at the stranger before picking the book up and flicking from cover to cover and tossing it back on the counter. “Where’s the excitement in getting to know each other? Where’s the exciting plot-twist? The whodunit? Where’s the regular, every day, non-model-like heroine falling for the dad bod dude?”
Cleo laughed. “You’ll have to excuse my cynical friend here. She’s having a bit of a personal crisis.”
The stranger nodded knowingly and pointed at the book. “Read the book. It might surprise you, and if it doesn’t, it might re-light that tiny flame of hope in your dark and twisty heart.” She winked, picked up her mug of cocoa, and joined her friends at a table in the far corner of the café.
“I like her.” Molly’s smirk wasn’t unkind. She could always read people from the shortest of conversations. She’d often come home declaring she’d met a new friend in the parking lot, or in the grocery store, or the bathroom of a bar. She had a way with people. “But not everyone gets their happy ever after.” Her sigh was heavy, weighted with unspoken pain.
Cleo’s heart ached for her. Was there something going on that Cleo had missed? Molly gave her a small smile which she returned before ducking behind the coffee machine out of sight. Was she over thinking everything? She couldn’t figure out if she needed to step back and keep her head in the game or to relax and let life unfold. Did everyone else have these crises of faith? Was hanging out with Linc proving detrimental to their friendship?
Chapter 23
Lincoln
“Cleo, this is my younger sister, Amelia. Amelia, this is my girlfriend, Cleo.”
Mia vibrated with excitement, her face stretched with a wide grin. She had chosen their favorite Greek restaurant, Christos, for dinner. They’d ordered drinks and a dip sampler and pita as an appetizer before sitting down to check out the menus.
Anxiety rested in a tight knot on his diaphragm, making every breath dense and difficult. His sweaty hands fiddled with the napkin on his lap. Sister meet girlfriend. Girlfriend meet sister.
It was no big deal.
People did this all the time. All. The. Time.
“Winky, you didn’t tell me she was so beautiful.”
Despite the urge to grimace at the old nickname, his heart swelled at his sister’s compliment.
A faint blush crept into Cleo’s cheeks as she shook Mia’s hand. “Winky?” She pursed her lips and frowned.
Linc cringed, arching an eyebrow in her direction.
“Oh God.” Mia covered her face with a groan. “I really didn’t think through using that nickname at a table with a woman who sees your actual winky, did I?”
Cleo laughed, her blush deepening. “If it helps, the subject of your brother’s penis can go right over here.” She slid an imaginary object to the edge of the table. “This can be the ‘fuck no’ pile.”
Mia nodded. “Sounds good to me. For reference though, I couldn’t say my L’s for the longest time as a kid. So Linc became Wink and at some point I added a ‘y’... Before I knew it was slang for dick, obviously, and it kinda stuck.” She dragged a piece of warm pita bread through the hummus dip and took a bite. “This should be illegal, it’s so good.”
