AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“To Lam, O’Connell, Kingston,” he countered with a laugh.
“Kingston, Lam, O’Connell,” said Wren. “Or I’m taking my vagina and my gender equity elsewhere, and you can be another boys’ club like all the rest.”
Josh raised his glass higher. “To the strict alphabetical order logic—
Tom cut in. “And the natural justice of Kingston, Lam, O’Connell, Chicago’s finest PR firm.”
“Kingston, Lam, O’Connell,” they chorused, clinking glasses.
After Josh and Wren left, after Flick helped him clean up, he learned she’d captured that toast on camera.
“You could do it,” she said, showing him her phone.
The three of them looked slightly drunk. Josh had his mouth open, Wren had her eyes closed. Tom’s glass was in front of his face. But stranger things had happened than three good friends seeing to their ambitions together.
Chapter Twenty-Two
To Flick’s consternation, Wren had seen it and called it. They’d been alone on the balcony while Josh and Tom talked Rendel politics in the kitchen. “Tom is into you in a big way,” Wren had said.
There was no point in Flick denying it. “I didn’t know what exactly he’d told you.”
“He told me you were roommates, that you’d hooked up but it was over. It’s so not over.”
“We’re going at it like rabbits.”
Wren squealed. “Oh—go, girl!” Tom and Josh both looked around and she made a shooing motion at them, and when they’d gone back to their huddle she raised her hand and they high-fived. “All that repressed tension.” Wren gave a little shudder. “Not my thing, but I can see the attraction. I’m glad you’re around. He would’ve brooded for longer after they shafted him on his promotion. He’s stubborn and sometimes you have to push him.” She’d grinned at Flick. “But you know that.”
The most stubborn heart she’d ever encountered. “It’s almost over.”
“Does Tom know how you feel about him?” Inside Josh was wine-testing. Wren put her back to him and looked out at the view. “It’s none of my business and it didn’t work out for me. I told Josh I was in love with him. It’s true, I am. I didn’t know how he felt about me. I mean, I knew he loved me, and that he likes men, but I didn’t know if maybe—anyway, I didn’t want to die without knowing for sure.”
“That was brave.”
Wren closed her eyes. “It was bad. He panicked. I panicked. He doesn’t love me like that. We stopped talking, didn’t know how to relate to each other, couldn’t be in the same room for months. It was a nightmare at work. Tom was stuck in the middle of it. I’m sure it freaked him out, but was never anything but supportive.”
“You got past it.”
“Josh got past it. What could he do? But yes, it was worse not being friends. It’s easier with him in Beijing.” Wren turned again, put her back against the railing and gestured toward the kitchen at Tom. “He won’t know how to tell you how he feels. He won’t assume you feel anything for him, but that’s because he’s stupid about these things. Brilliant at work, never hesitates, makes good decisions, but socially, with people, it’s like his compass is broken. It’s so obvious you’re into each other in a big way. I could be making too much of it and you should tell me to butt out, or you could turn out to be Josh and me, but you know, maybe not.”
“I leave in thirteen days.”
“You’re going to quit seeing each other altogether? Josh moved six and a half thousand miles away—Chicago to Washington is more like six hundred miles.”
“Do you know anyone who made a long-distance fling work?”
Wren grimaced. “They fizzle.”
That’s not how Flick wanted to end things with Tom. They could be long-distance friends, keep up on social media, be messenger buddies, but those six hundred miles might as well have been six million.
Wren said all that before the Kingston, Lam, O’Connell toast, before it was obvious that these three friends enjoyed working with each other and wanted to again. Tom was never going to leave Rendel, and settling for something long-distance was setting a timer on its extinction. Seeing him with Wren and Josh made that as vivid as a sunset.
The thing was to focus on the coupons and what fun they could get up to at Lulu’s.
The lingerie store was styled like a boudoir with red velvet love seats and padded chaise lounges, elaborately framed mirrors and enormous stands of fragrant lilies. It looked exclusive and expensive, and was both. Flick had been there for a bridal party once, but she knew the store had a menu of services and did a roaring trade in bachelors’ party lingerie parades. She’d booked a private dressing room. She’d also chosen a selection of lingerie she thought Tom might like, pre-buying three pieces she intended to keep.
And she wore heels.
Because the thing about the private dressing suite was less about the lingerie and more about the privacy.
