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Now I have to be normal.
I have to be calm.
And I can do this.
Sounds good. I’ll be there. Text me your addy when you get a chance.
Christina and I chat for a few more minutes. Then I take a shower, blow-dry my hair, and slip on a long-sleeved shirt and a pair of jeans. It’s not sexy, by any means, but she’s going to be dressing me up, and I’d rather be warm on my way over.
It is December, after all.
The rest of the afternoon I spend reading. When my phone alarm goes off at 7:15, I brush my teeth, feed Owl, and head for my car.
It’s time.
I can do this.
The drive to Christina’s house only takes a few minutes. We both live close to work and, consequently, close to each other. I park on the street in front of her house and head up to the door. I ring the bell and a sexy-as-fuck man in a dark suit opens the door.
I blink up at him, craning my neck. I’m not that short, but it still takes effort me to meet his gaze.
“You must be Lily,” he says.
“Yes,” I say, suddenly feeling totally out of my element.
Holy.
Fucking.
Dragons.
How the hell did Christina meet a guy like this? And where? And what’s he like in bed?
I feel my cheeks blush eight shades of red even as the thought floats through my mind. Mr. Sexy must be a mind-reader because he just chuckles and steps aside.
“I’m Zack,” he says. “Welcome to our home.”
“You live here together?” I ask, stepping inside. I’ve heard Christina talk about Zack plenty of times, but I didn’t realize they were living together.
“It’s recent,” Christina says, coming out of the kitchen. “But we’re going to be getting married really soon, so we figured we might as well move in now.”
“Congratulations,” I tell her. “When’s the big day?”
“February,” they both say in unison. Zack smiles at Christina and takes her hand. Then he plants the sweetest, softest, gentlest kiss on her forehead and a surge of jealousy shoots through me. I want that, I realize. No matter how many times I tell myself that I’m fine without it, I’m not.
> I want what they have.
I want the passion, the sweetness, the tender moments.
I want all of that.
“It’ll be small,” Christina says. “But perfect.”
“Bennett must be totally excited. Speaking of which,” I look around, but don’t spot a babysitter. “Where’s the little monkey tonight?”
“My friend has her tonight,” Christina says. “I take her daughter on Fridays and she takes Bennett on Saturdays.”
“That’s amazing. Talk about a dream arrangement.” Considering the going rate of overnight babysitters these days, I’d say Christina hit the jackpot with her friend.
