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So get a grip, woman. Quit whining and make a plan!
A plan, yeah right.
****
Beverley still had no plan for how to keep her body covered when she arrived at Hyacinthe’s apartment promptly at ten with a platter of raw vegetables cut into sticks and a homemade, fat-free, tangy dip.
Inigo was just pulling into the parking lot as she arrived, so she waited in the lobby for him. He bounded out of his truck and up the stairs to her, carrying a cooler. They chatted lightly as they rode the elevator together to Hyacinthe’s fourth-floor apartment.
“Veggies and dip, huh? I brought steaks marinated in beer so the veggies will be a great match for them. I wonder what Hyacinthe has chosen?”
“You haven’t taken her out to dinner to know her tastes?” asked Beverley.
“I’ve asked her a few times but she’s always turned me down. I guess I assumed she was going out with you,” he replied.
“No, we’ve never been out to dinner and the few times we’ve had lunch together at work, we’ve both brought something from home, not eaten out.”
Hyacinthe opened the door just as Inigo raised his hand to knock. She stood on tiptoe to kiss him then pulled Beverley’s head down to kiss her before leading the way through her apartment to the kitchen in back. On the counter was a large bowl full of fruit salad—berries, grapes, watermelon, peaches, cherries, mandarin orange slices, and more.
“I didn’t know you could get canned berries,” said Inigo.
“They’re fresh. Everything is fresh. There’s a wonderful store not far from here where we can buy fruits and vegetables all year round, whether or not they’re in season. I have a standing order for all my favorites, but they’ll buy in whatever clients want as long as they order in advance.”
Hyacinthe led them through to her living room. “Now let’s talk about the movies we’ve chosen and we’ll decide which order to watch them in. Beverley, you first.”
Bev had felt conflicted about this, too. While saying she liked a particular movie seemed fine, if the others didn’t like it, well, too bad, but to describe it as her favorite was opening herself up to too much possible hurt. So she’d taken a middle path by bringing a movie she liked a lot but one that wouldn’t reveal too much about her inner self or require a lot of deep and meaningful explaining.
Beverley dug in her purse and pulled out Quantum of Solace. “I like action movies, explosions, car chases, and James Bond. The plot isn’t wonderful, but the special effects are so good, I like the movie anyway.”
“Woo hoo!” said Inigo, high-fiving a startled Beverley. He showed them both the cover of the DVD he’d had in one of the pockets of his cargo pants. “Sherlock Holmes. Same reasons—lots of action, special effects, and the plot’s not bad either. They’ve even made an effort to keep the characters reasonably close to the original books.”
“Oh yes, I’ll enjoy seeing that one again, too,” said Beverley. “What did you choose, Hyacinthe?”
She held up The Princess Bride.
“Hmm. Okay,” said Inigo. “My sister made me watch that quite a few times when we were kids. The only thing that prevented me from strangling her was that the story was actually being read to a little boy.”
“Apart from the sword-fight scene. Did you know those guys actually learned to fence for that scene and did it all themselves except for the somersaults?” asked Beverley.
“Really?”
“Yes. They filmed it using mirror-image sets because they were supposed to be ambidextrous. Can we watch that one first?” Beverley looked at Inigo and Hyacinthe.
“Yeah, get it out of the way before we do the good stuff,” Inigo said, his voice light and his chocolate-colored eyes sparkling.
“Sure,” agreed Hyacinthe, popping her DVD in the player.
The three sat together on the couch, Cinthe in the middle, holding each of their hands.
Inigo draped his arm along the top of the couch, his fingers playing with the back of Hyacinthe’s neck.
Surprisingly, Beverley enjoyed their movie marathon. They laughed and talked and joked. They took a break after the second movie and Inigo grilled the steaks while the two women sat at the kitchen counter and they all talked about the movies, the actors, the plot inconsistencies, and twists, each of them trash-talking the others’ films, but all of them laughing too much to bother defending their choices.
It wasn’t until they were all in the bedroom and Hyacinthe brought out a couple of huge, fluffy towels, a dish of warm, soapy water, a razor and shaving cream that Beverley’s heart sank and she knew the fun had come to an end. Cinthe would insist she get undressed. Inigo would likely be too polite to say anything, but he would look at her belly and thighs and be disgusted with her, just the way her father had looked all those years ago, the way her own face fell when she was forced to take a close look at herself in a mirror. No matter how often the height and weight charts and body-mass index calculations showed her as being in the normal, healthy weight range at five eight and one thirty pounds, the mirror did not lie. The mirror showed a flabby belly and cellulite-dimpled thighs.
Bev struggled not to burst into tears. She loved Hyacinthe so much. She was prepared to share her, she really was. She didn’t even mind Inigo. He was a decent enough man and the time she’d spent in his company today was enjoyable. But damn it all to hell, now the shit was going to hit the fan and she’d lose Hyacinthe forever.
Beverley swallowed hard, blinked the incipient tears from her eyes, dragged in a big breath and looked up. Inigo was already naked as was Hyacinthe. But their bodies looked so good. Naked suited them. Hyacinthe was lean with soft curves in all the right places, at hips and breasts. Inigo was hard and sculpted, tapering in a perfect triangle from broad shoulders through to narrow hips.
