6 MONTHS, 7 DAYS AGO: 8:49 P.M.
The clock on my dash reads 8:49, and I wince at the early getaway I just successfully pulled off. Jace—in a completely out-of-character maneuver—set me up on a blind date with one of the extras in the movie he’s shooting. I don’t know what possessed him to think of me when he’d normally just take the girl out himself (she’s more his type anyway), but I went with it since he did me a favor a few weeks ago.
I made no promises to make the date last longer than necessary, however. After an hourlong conversation on her political viewpoints, she dove into how she dresses her cats. When I realized the cat wardrobe was the most interesting subject we’d broached for the evening, I paid the bill and dropped her off without a nightcap. I reserve those for my best friend on occasions such as this.
I park in Theresa’s stall at her place since her main form of transportation is her own two feet, and then take the stairs two at a time to get to her. I’m too pumped to wait for an elevator. The last month or so has been pure adrenaline in her company. I don’t know if it’s her or if it’s me, but things are better than they ever have been. Yeah, I’m still in love with her, but it’s not so painful anymore. Maybe because she’s stopped looking at me like some wounded puppy.
I tap one knuckle against the door before pushing it open a crack. “You naked?”
Something clinks in the kitchen, and I hear Theresa’s laugh float through the air. “Maybe I should be. Might make cleaning more fun.”
After the all-clear I step inside and slide off my jacket. She’s elbow-deep in sink suds, cringing at something she can’t quite scrub off. The woman rarely cleans, so when she does it’s adorable and amusing to watch her attempt it.
I join her in the kitchen and roll my sleeves to my elbows. She looks at the clock on the oven behind her.
“Ooh, that bad, huh?” she asks.
“Bright side,” I say, pointing my finger at her, “I now have a better understanding of the Democratic Party.”
“Ew, she talked politics on a first date?”
“And cats. I also know too much about her cats.”
She raises an eyebrow. “How many does she have?”
“Five.”
“Their names are…?”
“Huey, Dewey, and Louie, and the twins are Mary-Kate and Ashley.”
“You lie.”
“I wish.”
She laughs and makes a whomp whomp sound effect.
“Still better than the worst date you’ve had,” I say, nudging her as I grab a hand towel.
“Getting puked on is hard to beat.”
I’d totally forgotten about that one. Tiny chuckles shake my shoulders, and she playfully nudges me back, splashing some water out of the sink and onto the counter.
“I was actually talking about the guy who robbed you,” I say.
“That one wasn’t so bad.” She hands me a wet plate to dry. “I did get a phenomenal kiss that night.”
My stomach jumps up into my throat, and I have to shove it back down where it belongs in order to speak properly.
“Phenomenal. This is true.”
She wrinkles her nose in a playful Eskimo-kiss way, and before I have a chance to ruin the repartee we have going with another declaration of love, a wave of soapy dishwater floods the countertop and the waistband of my pants. I shake my head at her and take a step back so I don’t get any wetter.
She starts singing under her breath, and instead of joining in this time I listen and think, wondering why she’d bring up the subject we are so used to sweeping under the very crowded rug. (Not that I don’t like hearing that the kiss we shared the night she was robbed was “phenomenal.” I’ve often described it that way in my head.) It was just brought up so casually. Guess time has done its healing thing. Either that or she’s moved on and hasn’t said anything. Maybe I’m feeling this closeness and pull toward her simply because she’s a pleasure to be around. No drama, no mess. Like another friend in our circle right now.
“Can I ask you a question without you laughing at me?” I ask, rotating the towel around the plate I’ve been drying for a solid three minutes. Any more and I’ll dry off the patterned hearts around the edges.
“I make no promises,” she teases. I take a deep breath and just blurt it out.
“Did you sleep with Jace?”
Uncontrollable rumbles of laughter roll out of her, one after the other, so much so that she has to clutch the kitchen sink to keep herself upright. Unbridled relief starts filling me up from toe to neck, grateful to get this reaction from her. Though it’s a bit ridiculous now that I say it out loud.
I feel my nose wrinkling up and I nod at the dish I’m drying. “Yes, thank you for answering that with so much sensitivity. I don’t feel like an idiot at all.”
“I’m sorry.” She gets hold of her laughter. “It’s just…what the hell made you think that?”
“Have you seen him lately?” The guy is practically shitting rainbows.
“Oh, yes, he’s definitely getting some from somewhere.” She flicks some suds on my shirt. Even cleaning up she makes a mess. “But why would you think of me? I told you I’m not ready for that.”
“But you…”
“But I what?”
I shake my head and get back to drying another dish. “Never mind.”
“No.” She spins around, crossing her sudsy arms and soaking the sides of her shirt. “Spit it out.”
“You said that to me so long ago. Seems like you could be ready since, you know…” God, how do I put it without sounding like a dick?
“Since I’ve slept with other guys?” she finishes for me.
“Well, yeah.” I shrug. Sex seems like “ready.” Then again, sex isn’t something casual for me. “Guess I don’t get it,” I admit.
“It never means anything,” she says, bringing her gaze up to meet mine. “It never has.”
“Sucks.”
“Yeah, well…” She shrugs. “You still didn’t answer my question.”
“I forgot it.”
“Why do you think I’m the one sleeping with Jace?”
I roll my head back and laugh at myself for even thinking it. “Because you’re happier too. Can’t help but notice it.”
“Hmm,” she hums thoughtfully, then turns back around to unplug the sink. Guess she’s washed all she wants to tonight, since there’s still a pile left.
“Can I tell you something without you laughing at me?” she asks, flicking her gaze over her shoulder.
“I make no promises,” I tease.
“I haven’t slept with anyone since the robbery.”
My shock almost causes me to break her favorite coffee mug in the middle of drying it. “Why not?”
“You asked me to do background checks. I’m too lazy for that.”
A small chuckle rises in my throat, but it’s caught somewhere before it truly comes out. I did ask her that, but I was only half serious. I was more or less just trying to get her to stop sleeping with men she barely knew, not only for selfish reasons, but also to protect her heart and her safety.
“But really…?” I press, knowing she has a real answer for me.
“But really,” she says, smile softening, “one-night stands weren’t healing my broken heart. So I had to find other ways to do it.” She slowly whips the towel in my direction. “My method is working. Hence the ‘happy.’ ” Her lips turn up for two seconds before her brow wrinkles and the corners of her mouth drop. “I do miss sex, though.”
I pop out a laugh. “Makes two of us.”
“I’d suggest we help each other out, but you know…”
“I know what?”
“With you, it would mean something.”
“Mean something to you?” I ask, pushing down the ray of hope that’s rising in my chest. “Or to me?”
She pushes back the red-brown hair dangling from her ponytail. “How would I know if it meant something to you?”
What a ludicrous question, so I answer with a somewhat arrogant smile.
“You’d know.”
And I swear I see her pulse jump in her neck, drying up my mouth and making me feel like there’s hope where it shouldn’t be. On second glance, I’m most likely imagining things, and like all other conversation that has the potential to lead this friendship into uncharted territory, it’s chased away by a joke and a shared laugh, and never spoken of again.