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oh my god, you had sex.”
“Don’t you lie to me, Lucille. You’re standing there bow-legged, you’re wearing the same sweatshirt I saw Aiden in two weeks ago, and you’re making a cup of coffee without the cup for the coffee.” I blink at the coffee machine, spitting out coffee straight onto the countertop.
“Why are you texting Patty?” Before I can even finish that sentence, my front door slams open again. Patty comes skidding into the kitchen with a bottle of champagne in one hand and her apron in the other.
It is nine thirty in the morning.
“She has a hickey on her neck.” “She has two hickeys on her neck.” “I’m standing right here,” I try to interrupt. I have three hickeys on my neck, actually, and one on the inside of my thigh.
“You certainly look like you’ve been ravaged by a big dick.”
I take another fortifying sip from my coffee bowl, my eyes darting between them.
“Because standing is easier than sitting at the moment.”
“The sweatshirt you’re wearing probably has him giggly too.” “What’s wrong with the sweatshirt I’m wearing?” “Well, it’s clearly not yours. The sleeves are too long and it’s man-sized,” Maya points out. She drops her arms out of our hug. “It has a Heartstrings logo.” “I’ve been working there. Maybe I picked it up after a shift.” “It says Aiden under the Heartstrings logo.” Oh shit. It totally does.
“I don’t want something perfect; I want something honest. Something that can be mine.” I reach for Maya’s hand with mine and she twists our fingers together, squeezing. “I think it’s time I make my own magic, kiddo.”
“I just feel like, all things considered, I deserve some ice cream,” Maya adds conversationally.
Eavesdropping is juvenile, but curiosity is a bitch.
“Oh, my boy. The entire Eastern Seaboard heard that.” He pauses. “Not your smartest move.”
A hair tie she left in the studio around my wrist.
The Aiden Valen apology tour, I guess.
I trip over a discarded box of Royal Farms chicken, tumbling and rolling off the path. I don’t bother getting up. I lie on the ground and stare at the swaying branches above me.
God. I can’t feel my legs. Or my arms. Sweat slicks down my back. I might never get up again. I’ll make my home here on the side of the pedestrian pathway in Patterson Park. Maybe they’ll decorate me for Christmas like they decorate the pagoda.
Harvey, however, has never claimed to possess an ounce of decency.
and I remember I fell in love with that idiot.
“You’ll be right behind me?” His eyes soften. “Right behind you.” — Dan is full of it. He is not right behind me. I doubt he even took two steps in the direction of his truck.
“A friend of mine.
“Long-time listener, first-time caller,”
“Where are you?” I ask instead.
