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PPPS. Mi closet es su closet.
PPPPS. Don’t open the dares until you’re at the bar with cock or tails in hand. (Assume your own meaning.)
By the end of the letter all three women had tears streaming down their faces. Not from crying, but from laughing so hard. Because they were all in pajamas and in the background Dean and Sam were exorcising a demon.
“God, I miss Zoe,” Milly said, but for the first time since her sister’s passing, she didn’t feel the hollowing of her gut when saying her name. The pressure had subsided a fraction.
“Me too,” Gemma said.
“I’m withholding my opinion until I see my dare.” Kat held up a pink Mr. Darcy–themed thong and bralette, which had Turn my pages in typewriter font on the back side. In her other hand was a paint-splattered set that read Caution. Slippery when wet. Gemma groaned.
“What does yours say?” Milly asked.
Kat pulled out a black set and grinned. “Badass and brilliant. She nailed it on the head. Huh, I guess that’s what these are for. Nailing.”
“I’m not getting nailed with Mr. Darcy on my hoo-ha,” Milly said.
“Why not?” Kat asked. “I’d do a menaj with Mr. Darcy and Dean.”
Milly took the mini note with her name on it and flipped it over in her hand. “What do you think it says?”
Gemma snatched it out of her hot little hands. “We can’t open it until we get to the bar. That’s the rules!”
“Yes, Mom,” Kat and Milly said in unison.
Kat snatched the note and held it to her head. “I’m getting a sexy vibe. As in Milly really needs to get laid.”
Gemma clapped her hands with excitement. “There’s this guy I met—”
“No!” Milly said quickly. “The last time you set me up with a guy and he heard I worked for a publishing company, he assumed I had pull. He brought a manuscript for me to read because you know everyone in New York has a story to tell.”
Milly was used to people pitching her their ideas in the most random places, like on the subway, in line at the grocery store, even once in a public bathroom. As soon as someone asked what she did for a living all bets were off. But that was the first time it had happened on a date while she was sucking down a bowl of tom ga soup.
“Well, at least he got you out of the house for a few hours.”
Milly laughed. “A few? Try six! Six hours of having the hero’s journey mansplained to me. He started in on symbolism as he was kissing my neck. Plus, who says I haven’t gotten out? I went skiing the other day.”
Both friends blinked.
“But you’re allergic to snow, altitude, and fun,” Kat said.
“Hardy-har-har. Do you do stand-up?”
“No, but I do sex. On the regular. How about you?”
Milly stayed mum on the topic. The last time she’d had a manmade orgasm was with Dillon, who left for cancer-free pastures. Okay, so manmade might be a stretch. She’d had an orgasm with a man in the room and her vibrator working overtime.
“Actually I crashed into Lucas Macintyre on the slopes. Like out-of-control crash, knocking us both on our asses. Well, he landed on his ass and I landed on him, all sprawled out with my hands groping his pecs like some kind of pervert.”
Gemma covered her mouth. “You did not!”
“I so did. It was completely humiliating. But he actually flirted with me.”
Sixteen-year-old Milly would have died and gone to heaven. Back then, he hadn’t even known she existed. In fact, it took him a moment to place Milly during her presentation. Which was super embarrassing. But they had run in different groups. While Zoe was the outgoing, social one, Milly tended to watch from afar or disappear into a book. She had her two friends and that was all she needed. Zoe’s life was about quantity and Milly’s was all about quality.
“Lucas? Mr. Serious-and-Uptight flirted?” Kat snorted. “I didn’t know that the guy could even speak in sentences that didn’t include spreadsheets and business plans.”
“Spreadsheets are sexy.” Milly thought back to how he’d openly checked out her butt, and her face heated. “He even invited me to a cocoa date.”
