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It was over as fast as it started. I tried to catch my breath, loving how Blue’s body sagged in my arm. How we fit together.
“I love you, Massi.”
“I love you, Blue.”
Returning slowly to reality, holding her close to me, a wave of happiness splashed over me. Immediately followed by dread.
“Fuck, Blue, condom.” I jerked back and met her gaze.
Her hair was now falling around her glowing face. Somewhere in the process, she’d lost the elastic.
She was radiant and so fucking beautiful, yet fear was the prevailing emotion roaming my blood.
She giggled and kissed my cheek. The scent of the meadow usually calmed me, but my heart had decided to train for the rock and roll Olympics right now.
“We’re getting married anyway, Massi.”
She buried her face in the crook of my neck. Thank God for that, because if my face mirrored only a fragment of the horror seeping through me this relationship would be over.
Fuck me. I wanted to get married so badly, but not to burden our love with kids. We were only nineteen.
“I think our heartbeats have synchronized,” Blue whispered with her palm on my chest.
I doubt that, I thought as I tightened my embrace, hoping that I hadn’t pushed us head on into a crash we might not survive.
ChapterThree
Gina
Ienter the busy bistro on 9th Avenue ten minutes early, but Mila is already waiting for me.
The open space gallery in the heart of the historic Meatpacking District is inviting if a little too busy for my taste. That’s the problem with trendy places—they lack privacy. Something I value slightly more than the culinary experience itself.
But I have to admit this place is amazing. The designer has wed outdoor with indoor, combining glass walls and ceilings with shrubbery and trees planted inside. It’s fresh, it’s light and it’s classy without being stuffy.
The hostess smiles at me and I wave at Mila who is bouncing in her seat. God, I love that girl. She is seven years younger than me but is my closest friend. Or really the only friend I have.
I’ve lived the life of a recluse of sorts, trying to avoid the spotlight despite working with influencers and trendsetters. I’m the one who stays behind the scenes. For all the good reasons. Some not so good, maybe.
“Oh my God, Gina, I’m so happy to see you,” Mila squeals as I approach and several people turn our way. She jumps up and almost knocks the hostess down as she throws herself on me.
Enveloped in her tight embrace and lavender scent, I get strangely emotional and my eyes mist. I blink a few times. There goes my resolution to remain composed. “I missed you so much.” Fuck, I sound teary. Well, I am teary.
“Oh, no, don’t cry.” She pulls me to our table and we take seats. “I’m so sorry about your father.”
Oh yeah, and then there is that. My father. I hadn’t spoken to him in seventeen years and now I won’t anymore. “Fuck.”
“Let’s order drinks.” Mila gestures to the server. She flails her arms around as if being served immediately is a question of life or death. All the while beaming. Her smile is so sweet and warm that even her occasionally outrageous behavior raises no eyebrows.
“Two gin and tonics,” she announces without consulting me.
What the heck. I can have a drink or two after the hell of a week I’ve been having.
“Distract me, Mils. I can use some of your honey personality.” I lean against the leather padded backrest and hope that nobody notices my spread legs. I don’t have it in me to hold the form tonight. The tiny devil on my shoulder laughs. Falling apart already? Four days on the East Coast is all it takes?
“Well, since I left LA—”
“Since you’ve abandoned me…” I can’t help but remind her of what I still consider a betrayal. Okay, not really, but I miss her badly.
