“You didn’t call her?” Jules goes for nonchalance, but that was two weeks ago, and I can see right through her.
“Why would I do that?” I ask, and that gets her attention. I run my hand along the fabric of the sofa and like how soft it feels against my skin. “I told you, I’m waiting on someone else.”
I try to say it as a joke, but the thing is, I’m totally serious. And even though I would never want to pressure her into anything, I can’t help but wonder what she’s waiting for.
She opens her mouth and closes it again, clearly unsure of how to respond to that.
Undeterred by her silence, I tilt my head to the side. “What do you think?”
She seems confused, and I debate teasing her a little, maybe attempting to flirt, but I pat the cushion between us. “Should I get it?”
“Oh,” she says and shakes herself out of her daze. “It’s nice.”
“Yeah, it’s comfortable, but is it sturdy?” I bounce up and downagain, testing its toughness. “Because if we’re going to be using this as our stage, it’s going to have to be able to handle the jumping.”
She chuckles, probably imagining us as adults putting on concerts in the living room like we did when we were kids, and I resist the urge to start singing just to try to embarrass her.
“It should be okay as long as someone doesn’t fall off and sprain their wrist.” She gives me a pointed look.
“Power ballads get me excited.”
Her eyes seem to sparkle when she leans in and asks, “Is that the only thing that gets you excited?”
I gape. I’ve been waiting so long for her to flirt back that when she finally does, I’m too shocked to know how to respond.
She smirks as if she knows exactly what she just did to me and places her finger under my chin to gently close my mouth.
“What about this one?” Chloe calls out from across the store and plops down on a navy blue sectional.
Jules stands and reaches for my hand, hauling me to my feet. “Come on. Let’s go test the durability of that sectional.”
“I know a great way to test the durability,” I say, and it makes her laugh.
When she links our fingers together, I feel like flying.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Julia
The credits toMiracle on 34th Streetstart to roll, and Alex reaches past our take-out boxes to snag a piece of paper with an itemized list of twenty-five Christmas movies. She crosses through the number 6, along with the title, and squints at what’s next. Her apartment is dark, except for the glowing lights from the five-foot tree sitting in the corner, and we’re sitting side by side on her brand-new sofa.
“Okay, tomorrow night isThe Santa Clause.” She places the paper back down on the table and grabs the remote, flipping from the movie to one of those cheesy Christmas romances we both can’t help but love. Lacey Chabert appears on screen, and Alex perks up. “Oh, I like this one.”
She pulls the weighted fleece blanket I got her for her twenty-fifth birthday, just two days before, up to her chin and settles in. I smile at how cute she looks. It’s getting late, but I’m in no rush to leave. In fact, I’ve crashed here a few times since Halloween, when we stayed out way too late and drank way too much. Nothing’s happened. At least, nothing scandalous.
It’s not that I don’twantanything to happen. Because I do. It’s taken eight months, but I finally feel like myself again. The guilt and heartache since leaving Brian has eased, and I think I’m finally at a place where I’m ready to move on.
“I was wondering,” I say during the first commercial break, “and it’s totally okay if you say no.” Alex looks at me, her expression holding intrigue. “If you’d go to my office holiday party with me nextweekend? I know it’s short notice, and you won’t know anyone, and we’ve invited a bunch of clients, so you’d have to schmooze and dress up all fancy—”
“I’d love to,” she says before I can give her any other reason not to go. She narrows her eyes. “How fancy are we talking?”
“Pretty freaking fancy.”
She hums thoughtfully. She snags one of the fortunes cookies and breaks it in half. “Pretty freaking fancy it is,” she says, then pops one of the halves in her mouth, completely disregarding the fortune.
Alex arrives exactly on time. She’s been like that since she’s been back. Punctual, reliable, andhere.
Which, of course, means I’m running late.
