Jacqueline

I’m here but I’m not mentally here. J.T. and I grabbed lunch halfway between our workplaces at a food truck famous for its gyros. We then walked to a small park, where we sat on a bench facing the tall buildings of downtown.

He’s been pointing out various architectural details, but my mind is on last night. And the lengths I’ve gone to avoid Vince today at work. I arrived at the office thirty minutes early, shut my door, and sent a “do not disturb” email to everyone on our team saying I was in deep concentration on a project but would answer my emails after lunch.

I saw him in passing on my way back from filling my coffee mug. We shared a lengthy gaze and I brushed by him, my nipples on alert and cheeks warm.

I’m not used to reacting that way to him.

“I have my eye on it,” J.T. is saying, and I realize I’ve been tuning him out for a while. His hand lands on my knee. “I take it you’re unimpressed that I found a Tudor I want to renovate with my own design ideas.”

“I’m sorry.”

He removes his hand and my leg feels the same with his hand on it or off it. No fluttering butterflies when he sits near or leans close. Nothing like my reaction to the kiss with Vince last night. My face heats.

“Long night?” J.T. asks, crumpling the paper after he polishes off the last bite of his gyro.

“No, why?” I snap. He chews, his eyes wide with surprise. I’m overreacting. Guilt makes me do that. “I mean, yes. Long night. I opened a bottle of wine”—to forget that my best friend kissed me—“and binge-watched Hart of Dixie on Netflix. I was so into it I accidentally drank the entire bottle.”

“Ouch.”

“I don’t normally do that.”

“It’s okay, Jacqueline,” he says, his smile reassuring. “I wasn’t mentally arranging an intervention. Hey, have you seen that new thriller with Ben Affleck? I can’t remember the name of it…”

The rest of our lunch is polite and easy, like every date we’ve had. J.T. walks me back to work and gives me a kiss goodbye, but I make sure the kiss ends before we’re caught. Not that I’m doing anything wrong, I remind myself as I march down the corridor toward my office. Vince kissed me, not the other way around.

Though I did a good job of kissing him back. I chew on the side of my finger.

Oh, God. Am I in a love triangle? I think of the show I watched last night. I am. I’m in a George-Zoe-Wade love triangle. In my office I shut the door, turning to press my back against it in relief…until I spot Vince bent over my desk.

I let out a tiny shriek of surprise. “You scared me to death! What are you doing in here?”

He holds a Post-it in one hand and drops a pen into a cup. “I was leaving a note.”

“Is your email down?” I bark. Him being in my space is unnerving.

Vince sends me a crooked smile that didn’t used to be quite so tempting, then comes closer. My eyes flit from the outside window to my desk, wondering where I can hide if I have to. Nowhere, so I don’t move.

“You don’t have to avoid me, Jackie.”

“I’m not.” I totally am.

He cants one eyebrow in argument and my shoulders slump.

“Fine. I’m avoiding you. I don’t know what to do now.”

“As your coach, I have advice.”

“I’m sure you do,” I mumble.

“Go out with me.”

I blink, shocked. His simple request is sexy and I can’t figure out why. It wasn’t poetic or orchestrated. It wasn’t even a question. But it was genuine—that’s Vince. He’s nothing if not genuine. He shifts, Post-it in hand, and I consider how good he looks in his clothes—how great he’d look out of them. He makes me feel ultrafeminine, which makes me feel sexy. Sexier than I felt with a perfectly nice dating prospect who treated me to gyros between his appointments.

“I’m dating J.T.” Honoring my commitment is the right thing to do.

“Date both of us,” Vince says with a shrug.

“I can’t do that to him.”

“How do you know he’s not doing it to you?” The first hint of anger slips into Vince’s expression. Tightness at the corners of his intense blue eyes. “Are you two exclusive?”

I bite my lip. This part of the dating game remains a mystery to me. I’m not sure what J.T. is doing. I assume he’s dating only me, but assuming isn’t the same as knowing, now is it?

“Do you want to be exclusive?” Vince asks, his tone careful.

Exclusive. It sounds…scary. Big. Too big.

“I don’t know. It’s too soon.”

“Exactly.” Vince holds up a finger, the orange Post-it stuck to the end of it. His neat block print reads: DOMAINE TOMORROW. 8 P.M.

“Domaine?” Only one of the most expensive restaurants in town. Vince and I consider sushi a splurge.

“Take it.”

I peel the sticky note off his index finger and hold it to my chest. It’s as good as a yes. He smiles.

“Give me a chance to blow your mind, Butler.” He moves toward me and I smash flat against the door, fearing he’s coming in for another kiss I’m woefully unprepared for.

“Relax,” he says. “Just going for the doorknob.”

“Oh.” I slide away and Vince opens the door, slips out, and closes it behind him.

I stare down at the Post-it, realizing my “coach” didn’t give me any advice about whether I’m supposed to tell J.T. I’m seeing other people—or ask if he is.

What I need is a girlfriend’s advice. I think of Kayla down the hall and dismiss the idea. She’s my friend and gives great advice, but someone who doesn’t work with Vince would be preferable. Someone who hasn’t seen J.T. in all his shirtless, running glory. Someone neutral.

I pick up my cellphone and text my sister, Bethany.

You’re in town until tomorrow morning, right?

Yep, comes her response.

Drinks and apps on me at Chic, I text back. It’s an emergency.

Chic Winehouse is my favorite establishment to frequent. They serve amazing food and delicious wine, and they encourage “more” as a way of life. More cheese, more chocolate, more wine. Just plain more.

Kind of appropriate for my current conundrum, when I think about it in those terms. I went from zero dates to more, and one of them with someone I thought was just my friend. Who still is my friend. With perks.

Bethany sits across from me, chardonnay in hand, eyes slitted in consideration. Her brown hair is dyed blond, and her roots show—stylishly so. She wears a high-end business suit and expensive heels and looks the part of a New Yorker. Right down to her Coach satchel resting on the chair beside my discount no-name handbag. I’m so proud of her, it hurts. She wanted to be in advertising and live in a big, bustling city, and she succeeded.

“Vince Carson?” she asks.

“Correct,” I say. I told her everything. My currently single-and-loving-it sister is apparently speechless.

“And he kissed you?” Bethany shakes her head, and to be honest, I’m not sure if she’s impressed or disapproving. It could be either one.

“Yes.”

“And now you’re dating both of them.” Bethany is two years older than me and as close to a mom as I have nearby. Our parents up and moved to Florida five years ago—something about Ohio being “too damned cold” and Dad wanting to improve his golf game.

“Have you done that before?” I ask. “Date two guys at once?”

“Pfft!” she pffts. “So many times!”

I knew I could count on her. “Did you tell them?”

“Not always. Depends on the guy. Vince already knows about J.T. Do you want to tell J.T. about Vince?”

I thought about this most of the day, so I have an answer ready. “I don’t want to tell J.T. about Vince because he’ll assume something was going on the night he came to pick me up for my date. And nothing happened…that night, anyway.”

She nods, narrowing her eyes again. They’re brown like mine but with a green tinge. “Good point. J.T. would assume you and Vince weren’t just hanging out. Plus”—she holds up a manicured nail to make her point—“J.T. thinks Vince is a safe space, since you explained you’re coworkers who hang sometimes. So he’s not jealous and has no reason to be. Which means you can date Vince at the same time as J.T. and not worry about J.T. getting weirdly possessive.”

Also true.

“I can’t have sex with either of them until I choose, though.” I know myself. My heart has to be in the bedroom, or else nothing works. Which removes the possibility of having a little stringless fun with J.T.

Or Vince. Oh, no.

“You look nauseous. Was it the Gouda?” Bethany points to the cheese plate between us, empty save for a few grapes and a pile of untouched baby carrots.

“How can I date Vince? What if it doesn’t work out? We work together. We’ll see each other every day!” It would be a nightmare. “Plus, I’ll lose my best friend.”

“Hmm. Yeah, I’ve done that before.”

That didn’t sound very encouraging. “You have?”

“We weren’t best friends,” she continues, “but we worked together.” She lifts her glass and swirls the remaining inch of golden liquid.

“What did you do when the two of you split?” I’m on the edge of my seat here.

She raises her eyebrows and answers, “I quit.”

I sink lower into my chair. Not the answer I was hoping for.

“Look, you don’t have to decide anything now. There are no decisions to make.” Bethany polishes off her wine and an efficient waiter sweeps by and refills her glass from the bottle on the table resting between us. He gives me a judgmental glare, since my glass is practically full.

“Unless one of them wants to do more than make out. Then I have to hold up the big red stop sign.”

“You don’t have to.” Bethany lifts her now-filled glass. “Live in the moment, Jacqueline. Go with your gut.”

“My gut doesn’t know what it’s doing.”

She takes a drink. “Well, you can’t trust your heart. Best to leave your heart out of this one.”

“Right.” Leave my heart out of the equation. Which I’ve always totally sucked at and she knows it.

“Try something new,” she adds with a teasing wink.

“Okay, but I’m going to call you if I get into trouble.” My sis agrees, and for the first time I think I can pull this off. I just have to live in the moment. Not dwell on the repercussions. I can do that.

I think.