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True. If Sandy hadn’t suggested it, Nicole might never have made that move out in the hot tub. And then she would have missed...a lot.
“It was a good idea,” she admitted with a sigh.
“How good?”
Talking to Katie was out of the question, and if Nicole didn’t talk to someone soon, she’d burst. And Sandy was right, it had been her idea. Who better to talk things over with?
“So excellent,” Nicole heard herself say, “that one night wasn’t enough.”
Sandy blinked. “The fling continues?”
“It does.” Oh, boy did it.
Every time she told herself that was the best it could ever be, Griffin touched her again and set the bar a little higher. The man really did have magic hands. And a magic mouth. And a magic—oh, God, she really was getting herself deeper and deeper into a situation she wasn’t going to want to get out of.
She was in trouble. She was starting to feel things for Griffin she had no business feeling, and she didn’t have the slightest clue how to turn them off.
“Interesting.” Sandy leaned back in her chair, and Nicole stopped searching for the order sheet to meet her friend’s steady stare.
“Interesting. Sure. That’s one word for it.” Another word might be dangerous. Or sexy. Or tempting.
“And was it your idea to keep the fling flinging, so to speak?”
Nicole laughed shortly. “No, it was his.”
“Really?”
“Don’t make this more than it is,” Nicole warned Sandy, and realized it was the same warning she kept giving herself. She’d known that Sandy would react just like this, but if she could find a way to convince her friend this affair meant nothing, then maybe Nicole might eventually believe it, too. “It’s a fling, Sandy. More than a one-night stand, but a fling. That’s all.”
“A fling would have been flung already,” Sandy said thoughtfully. “In one glorious night. Fling and move on. But this isn’t, is it?”
“It’s not over, but it’s like a really long one-night stand, that’s all.” Good for her. She sounded firm. “No strings. No promises. That’s a fling.”
“That’s an affair. You’re having an affair.”
Well, that sounded...uncomfortable. And so not like her. An affair? Nicole shifted on the chair and took another bite of her cupcake. An affair implied a relationship. But she and Griffin didn’t have a relationship. Did they? Okay, yes, they lived in the same house. They had meals together every day. They laughed and fought and made up. They shared a bed together every night—but, that was just sex, right?
Her stomach jittered a little as her thoughts flew in crazy circles around and around in her mind.
Sex was just that. But after sex, they didn’t split up and go to separate rooms. They slept in the same bed. Woke up together. Laughed together. Played with Connor together. Heck, they even shared duties around the house—everything from cooking to bathing Connor and doing laundry. That was a relationship, wasn’t it? Oh, God, was she sliding into something she hadn’t wanted? Hadn’t been looking for?
“Uh-oh,” Sandy muttered, “you look awfully pale all of a sudden.”
“No,” Nicole argued, “I’m not. I’m...fine.”
She so wasn’t fine.
Sandy just looked at her and shook her head. “You’re really not, are you?”
“No,” Nicole said softly. “I’m not.”
Images of Griffin rose up in her mind, like she was flipping through the photo gallery on her phone, except it was a slide show of all Griffin, all the time.
Him this morning, smiling at her over his coffee cup. Him last night, carrying Connor to bed, with the little boy’s giggles trailing behind them like a bright ribbon floating on the air. Griffin leaning in to kiss her as he used his body to push hers into heaven. Griffin sitting with Connor on his lap, reading the little boy a story and cuddling both Connor and the stuffed alligator close.
Griffin in the hot tub, holding out a glass of wine to her as she joined him. Making love under the shade of the elm tree in the yard. Griffin, a streak of grease across his forehead, bending over her car to fix the radiator. The picnic they’d had in the living room, candlelight dancing on the walls in softly shaded shadows.
