Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 86596 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 433(@200wpm)___ 346(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86596 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 433(@200wpm)___ 346(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
“Yes.”
I study her, arm still in the air, fingers wiggling for the bill. “You look thoroughly fucked.”
Her mouth gapes open. “I wasn’t thoroughly fucked! And keep your voice down.”
“No one is listening.” But anyone with a set of eyes can see her flushed cheeks and know we just disappeared together after our meal came and returned to the table at the same time.
Dick.
So.
Hard.
“We have to get out of here. I’m getting blue balls.”
Molly bites her lip. “Too bad we drove separate.”
Oh. That reminds me.
Fishing in my pocket, I pull out a set of keys.
My spare set.
“What are those?”
“My keys.” I slide them across the table. “For you.”
“For me?” She blinks. “What for?”
“So you can come and go as you please.” And cum and go as you please, ha!
“You want me to have a set of your keys? Isn’t that…rushing things?”
“So?” The server places the bill on the table, but I hand him my credit card before he can walk off again. “I love you.”
And I trust you.
And you’re honest and decent and kind—and nothing like anyone I’ve ever met.
Molly reaches hesitantly for the keys and puts them in her purse. “I love you, too.” She pauses. “Babe.”
That makes me laugh way harder than it should because we are the least likely people to use “babe” and “bae” and “sweetie”—but here we are, jumping in and getting both feet wet all in one night.
Feet.
Pussies.
Ha.
The receipt comes back, and after I add a tip and my signature, I stand and put my wallet in my back pocket.
“Race you back to my place. Babe.”
epilogue
Molly
Six months later.
“I can’t believe you and Eli have been together six months.”
Posey and I are in the kitchen—as per usual—and I sit at the counter as she folds an egg into a small mound of flour. For what recipe, I’m not sure, but I know it’s going to taste ah-mazing.
“Six months,” I repeat, hardly believing it myself. “I know. It felt so weird when he leaned over and whispered ‘Happy Anniversary’ in bed this morning.”
I catch her sweet smile as she turns toward the fridge, only to pull it open and grab the carton of buttermilk.
“Why does it feel weird? He’s like, your best friend now.”
“You are my best friend,” I correct, though she’s not wrong about how close Eli and I have grown over the past six months. Together, we’ve worked on healing from the Laura drama. I’ve accompanied him on a few long-distance business trips, and well, we moved in together only a few short weeks ago.
“So what brings you over today, best friend?” She winks at me as she begins measuring the buttermilk and pouring it into a large glass mixing bowl.
“Can’t I stop by to see you without having an ulterior motive?”
When I moved in with Eli three weeks ago, Posey went from being my friend and roommate to being the sole tenant, renting the entire house from me rather than just a single room.
“Of course you can—but you didn’t because otherwise, you would have texted.”
She’s so wise.
“Well. The truth is, I did have something to talk to you about—and I also love seeing you.” She’s always so bright and cheerful. I can’t help but be happy when I’m around her. “I miss you so much.”
More than I thought I would when I moved out.
“You just miss my cooking. You would starve if I didn’t feed you.” Posey ducks her head shyly as she scoops the contents of her mixing bowl into a round baking pan.
She’s not wrong.
I would probably have starved.
“So? What did you want to talk about?” She opens the oven and slides in the pan before straightening. “Please don’t tell me you’re selling the house and have to kick me out.”
“What? No! I need a huge, huge favor, and you’re the only one I trust.” I pause, gathering my thoughts, having rehearsed this little proposition a few times in the mirror. “And I need you to keep what I’m about to tell you a secret...”
“A favor? The answer is yes.” Her stance relaxes now that she knows I’m not kicking her to the curb. “And what’s the secret? Are you pregnant?”
“What? No!” I laugh again. “And stop agreeing to things before you know what they are. That’s what gets you into trouble.”
“Hardly anyone asks me for favors! But just F-Y-I, I’ll agree to anything you ask me.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of. That you’ll agree to it and regret it.”
“It’s you, Molly. I trust you.” She grins as she flutters around the kitchen, wiping the counters down and putting away ingredients. “What could it possibly be?”
I inhale a breath, clasping my hands on the countertop the way I’ve done a hundred times before those days and nights she and I had conversations like the one we’re about to have.
“Well. So Eli has this client, and he’s a pretty big deal.”