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"Talk about me?"
"Exactly. She told me about how you two
pretended to go on trips, even a honeymoon." "She told you we pretended to go on a
honeymoon?"
We had talked about the places we thought
were right for a honeymoon, but we never pretended
to go on one.
"Well, something like that," he said, laughing.
He edged closer again. "Whatever, I feel like I've
known you a long, long time. I'd like to know you a
long, long time," he added, and then he kissed me. There was something about the moment, about
what was happening, that made me suspicious, and it
had nothing to do with what I had come to do. It
wasn't because of his warm lips on my face or his
hands moving up my arms and around to my breasts.
It was all just a bit too perfect. An image flashed
through my mind. Karen, my love coach, was
coaching him, but on how to be with me. Was that
ridiculous or not?
"What else did Karen tell you about me?" I
asked, pushing him back.
"Nothing terrible. She told me you were the
warmest, most loving friend she had, 'ever had, ever
could have. She said she learned a lot from you." "She said she learned a lot from me?" "Sure. She said that was what was most
interesting about you, how quiet you were and
modest, but how much you already knew about life,
about relationships, about . . . love," he said, and was
at me again.
This time, he pressed his lips harder. He put the
tip of his tongue to mine. His hands were under my
