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Julie gave an impatient wave. “No, not a date with Mitchell. That’s how I got into this whole mess.”
Grace narrowed her eyes. “Then a date with who?”
Julie shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. Could be anyone. One of you guys can fix me up. Or I’ll ask Jamie for a number from her Bible-sized black book.”
“Jules, what about Mitchell?”
“What about him? He’s too … close. He’s eaten a bagel in my bed, for God’s sake. I need some perspective. And maybe some distance will be good for him as well. Remind him that he never wanted to be in a relationship with me in the first place.”
“Or it’ll break his heart,” Grace said angrily.
Julie gave a sad smile. “Or maybe I’ll save his heart.”
Grace shook her head, and even Riley looked vaguely horrified at Julie’s date idea. But Julie decided she was sticking to it. A little harmless flirting with a new guy would help clear her head. It would help remind her this was a story, not a life-or-death situation.
Her heart twisted a bit as she considered what Mitchell would think. But Riley was right about ripping off the Band-Aid. She could hurt him a little now to spare him a big hurt later.
What about your pain? her heart wailed.
Julie ignored it. It was too late for that. And she deserved whatever she got.
Chapter Thirteen
The date had been a colossal mistake.
Not just the man. Although he’d certainly been a mistake too.
Somehow she’d managed to hold it together throughout an overpriced five-course meal at one of the city’s new celebrity-chef restaurants. A place that even she wouldn’t have been able to get reservations at had her date not been the chef’s cousin.
His name was Keith, and he was perfectly nice. Actually, better than nice. He was downright charming and completely gorgeous. He had that floppy blond hair that only strong-featured men could pull off without looking juvenile, and his smile was wide and white. He even told good jokes.
But her laugh had been brittle. Her smile strained. Her appetite forced.
She would have killed to be curled up on Mitchell’s couch with a baseball game and mediocre takeout.
What was wrong with her?
When Keith suggested they hit up the nearby Brandy Library for a nightcap, she’d meant to say yes. Instead, she blurted out what she’d been thinking ever since she’d gotten on the train that morning for work: “I want to go home.”
Keith gave her a knowing wink and paid the bill without a word. She was aware of what he was thinking: that it was all part of the game, that cutting the date short would leave him panting for more.
Hadn’t she played that very game with Mitchell just weeks before?
Only Mitchell hadn’t played. Her chest tightened. Mitchell.
“So can I see you again?” Keith asked as he set a hand on her waist and escorted her out of the restaurant’s waterfall foyer. Julie waited for the zip, the sizzle she’d felt when Mitchell had put his hand in that same spot and sent fireworks up her spine.
Nothing.
“That’d be nice,” she heard herself say as she lifted her hand to hail a taxi. “Call me?”
“Absolutely, babe.”
Babe. Blech.
Julie lunged for the door handle as soon as the cab pulled to a stop in front of her, but Keith moved too fast, gently grabbing her hand and sliding another hand up her back. His eyes fixed on her lips, and for a moment the old Julie felt a little thrill of triumph. Landed this one in your sleep, didn’t ya, old girl?
But the new Julie felt like barfing.
