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“No, it’s fine,” I say, needing some time to think. To breathe. “I have to get home. I’m cooking Starling a curry recipe I learned at the yoga retreat in Thailand.”
Christian exhales a put-upon sigh. “Speaking of your sister, could you kindly ask her to stop making memes out of the shots from our photo shoot yesterday? Or at least stop posting them to social media? The one where it looks like I’m checking out the bulldog’s ass is disturbing.”
“And already going viral,” I say, fighting a grin. Starling texted me that meme before she posted it, and it’s pretty hysterical. “And donations are up by almost fifty percent today, so…”
Christian curses.
I laugh as I back toward the door.
“See you tomorrow,” I say to Barrett, then wiggle my fingers at Keanu. “Farewell, Mr. Reeves. Please be nice to your daddy and don’t cause any more trouble tonight.”
“Uncle,” Barrett corrects. “And Wren—”
I turn back at the door, my heart flip-flopping like a fish all over again. “Yes?”
“Let me know about the conference tomorrow?” he adds. “I’d love for you to come if you can. Since it was your idea in the first place.”
I nod. “Will do.”
On the way down the drive, I turn everything that happened today over in my head. Barrett telling me that he was glad I was back, confessing why he was on that dating app, and baring his soul about seeking therapy. That might not seem like soul-baring to most people, but I know Barrett. I know how far out on a limb he just went to let me know that he wants to change.
I promised myself I wouldn’t fall back into destructive old patterns with him, but maybe this isn’t an old pattern.
Maybe this is something new.
I guess there’s one way to find out.
As soon as I get home, I call Kinsey and tell her I’m in for the conference and to please book me a single room. But maybe, if all goes well, I might need a room for two at some point in the not-too-distant future…
The thought is exciting. And terrifying. I don’t know if I can handle having my heart squashed again. Not so soon and by the same man who squashed it the first time.
I’ll have to proceed cautiously. Carefully.
But I’m still packing my new green sheath dress for the trip. Cautious and careful is good, but a curve-hugging dress that will remind Barrett of that time we were naked together can’t be a bad thing. Right?
“I don’t know,” I mutter to myself as I stir the curry and Starling makes side salads by the sink.
“Well, I think it’s fairly simple,” Starling says, startling me. I was so lost in my thoughts; I haven’t been paying attention to our conversation. “Christian McGuire is just jealous that I’m better at fundraising than he is. There’s no other reason to ask me to take the memes down when they’re bringing in money hand over fist. I mean, it’s not like I put a picture of him in his banana hammock on any of them, so I don’t know what he’s complaining about.”
Glancing at her over my shoulder, I ask, “You have one of those?”
Her lips curve in a diabolical smile. “I do. I pulled it from a friend of a friend’s social media, someone who didn’t promise Christian that they wouldn’t post pics of him in stripper mode on the internet. I’m saving it for a special occasion when I really want to piss him off. Or for blackmail. We’ll see how things shake down.”
I laugh. “What are you going to blackmail him for? Control of the ball decorating committee?”
“No way,” she says, chopping cucumbers. “I’ll get that through sheer stubbornness and badgering alone. I’m saving blackmail for something special. Something secret. But I will say this—if you and Christian end up heading back to his place after the ball, I don’t think you’ll be disappointed. I haven’t seen too many in real life, but judging from the porn I’ve watched, his eggplant may be something worth writing home about.”
“Ew.” I wrinkle my nose, not at all tempted by the thought of Christian’s eggplant. His big brother’s eggplant is all I can think about, and I certainly wouldn’t write home or anywhere else about it. I want to keep the secrets of his skill and beauty all to myself.
Starling shrugs. “I don’t know. They’re growing on me. Eggplants can be kind of cute in a gross, mushroom-y kind of way. Kind of like Keanu Reeves. The dog, not the human. The human flat out slays. He can be my Zaddy any time.”
“Gross, Starling,” I say. “I don’t want to hear that kind of stuff. If you like kinky things, that’s fine, but please keep it to yourself.”
She laughs so hard she snorts. “Oh my God, Wren, relax. It just means an older guy who’s stylish. It isn’t kinky. Or…it doesn’t have to be, anyway. Though I bet Christian is that kind of guy, the kind who wants you to call him Zaddy, while he spanks you or something.”
