Chapter 16
Cassie
I look up to see Missy handing a glass of wine to Lisa, who’s balancing a blue plate topped with something I couldn’t possibly pronounce. I think there’s shrimp involved.
We’re at a fancy seafood-and-wine thing on the Oregon coast, which is actually more low-key than it sounds. I like seafood. I like wine.
What I don’t like is the fact that I’m bracing myself for a conversation about how likely I am to scandalize their college friends with tales of my debauchery. Now that Simon and I have turned my fibs into truths, I feel strangely protective of them.
Luckily, my sisters seem more focused on the wedding than the bachelorette party. As if on cue, Lisa whips out her phone. “What do you think of these napkin rings for the rehearsal dinner?” She thrusts out the gadget, and I take a step back like she’s holding kryptonite.
“I have no idea,” I tell her. “Can’t people just unfold the napkins and put them in their laps?”
My sisters both look at me like I’ve suggested an orgy in place of the first dance. Truth be told, that would be my preference. Thoughts of sex remind me of Simon again, which has me smiling in a way they probably interpret as approval of the napkin choices.
“Do you like the one on the right or the one on the left?” Missy demands.
“Uh—right.” I don’t specify her right or mine. I honestly don’t care.
I’m too busy trying not to think about Simon.
We haven’t talked for several days. That’s not unusual, especially since we’ve both been traveling. Me to the Oregon Coast to this wine thing with my sisters, and Simon to—well, actually, he never told me.
But I know he’s out of town, and I know not to expect a lot of communication.
So why do I keep glancing at my phone? We’re not in a relationship.
We only have two more items on the list— the roleplay one, and the Post Hole Digger, which we never figured out the other night.
In fact, we ended up making love slow and sweet in my bed, then falling asleep twined in each other’s arms.
Which does seem kind of relationshippy, now that I think about it. Is he thinking about it?
“Don’t you think so, Cassie?”
“Wha—what?”
I take a gulp of wine and force my attention back to my sisters. Missy is regarding me with an expectant look, and Lisa’s still holding out her phone.
“What?” I try again. “Yes, the napkin rings are very nice.”
Both sisters roll their eyes. “No,” Lisa asks. “We were talking about dresses for the rehearsal dinner. About what might look nice on you.”
“Me?”
Missy nods and pops a tiny crab puff in her mouth with the tips of her French-manicured fingers. She chews and swallows before speaking, the model of perfect manners. “And before you say it, no, we’re not making your dress out of plaid flannel and letting you wear your lumberjack boots.”
I resist the urge to glare at them, but I do resent the implication. Their suggestion that there’s Cassie, the manly chick who plays in the dirt, or Missy and Lisa, the proper ladies who can distinguish between eggshell and cream paper for their thank-you notes. Nothing in between.
“I’m fine with wearing a dress,” I tell them. “I actually wore one a few nights ago when Simon and I went out for dinner.”
At the mention of Simon, my sisters’ expressions shift from vaguely patronizing to something bordering on impressed. Lisa sidles close as she nibbles a shrimp. “So, are you and this guy serious?”
“Of course not.” My response is hasty, but my sisters smell blood in the water.
“Please,” Missy scoffs. “I see the look on your face.”
“What look?”
“The one that says you’re hooked.” She smirks and takes a sip of her wine. “The one that says this guy isn’t just one of your flings.”
I hate that her words send tiny spears of uncertainty into my chest. Am I hooked? I want to say no. I want to argue that Simon’s just a fling. It’s what we agreed, after all, and nothing’s been said to indicate otherwise.
“When are you seeing him again?” Lisa asks.
“I don’t know.” I try to keep my voice cool, but I’m not sure it’s working. I take another sip of wine. “We haven’t really connected for a couple days. We’ve both been traveling.”
“Where’d you say he went this weekend?” Missy asks.
“Some sort of work trip,” I tell her. “I’m not sure where. We didn’t really talk about it.”
I try not to let it bother me that Simon has seemed oddly tight-lipped lately. That he clammed up when I tried to probe for details about his job or his family or anything of a personal nature. Does he travel often for work? Does he have siblings or parents he visits? I have no idea.
“What kind of car does he drive?” Missy asks, giving me yet another question for which I have no answer.
“I don’t know,” I tell her. “We took a limo to Ponderosa Resort.”
I’m hoping to distract them with that juicy detail, but it’s clear from Missy’s expression she’s undeterred. “Right, but you’ve gone out plenty of other times.”
Lisa sips her wine. “What did he drive when you went on dates before the trip?”
I shrug and grab a scallop off my sister’s plate. Realizing how little I actually know about the man I’ve been sleeping with is making me edgy.
“We usually hang out at my place,” I say. “Or take an Uber. We took my work truck to the mountains a couple weeks ago.”
My sisters exchange a look I recognize as silent judgment. Or not-so-silent, in Missy’s case. “Are you sure he even has a car?”
I roll my eyes to indicate this is the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard, even though the words hit home.
“I don’t know, Missy. Maybe he relies on public transportation.
Would that be the worst thing in the world?
The guy made me come my brains out in the spa at a luxury resort. Does it really matter what he drives?”
There. That got a flash of respect. Or something, anyway. I saw it in both their eyes just now, and it felt damn good. Missy signals the sommelier behind the table and holds out her glass. “Do you have any chardonnay with more oaky undertones? This one’s too flat for me.”
The guy raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t say anything. Just pours from another bottle as Lisa turns away to signal the conversation is over. I catch the guy’s eye and give him a sympathetic smile.
“So, this Simon,” Missy says. “He’s some sort of repairman?”
“He’s a little more than that,” I say with a hoity note in my voice, even though I’m not entirely sure what his job title is. “He troubleshoots all kinds of computer problems and also works the retail side of things.”
“I see,” says Lisa. “So, is this just a sex thing, then?”
“I don’t know, Lisa.” I frown, annoyed to realize I’ve just taken the bait. “Yes. No. I don’t know.”
“So, you do like him!” Missy’s look is triumphant. She rarely gets me to admit to anything, so this is a big deal. “I mean as more than just a casual thing.”
“Look, I’m not sure, okay? I’m not going to start planning a wedding or anything if that’s what you mean.”
Lisa smiles and sidles up close to me. She puts an arm around me, and for a second it feels like we’re the sort of close siblings I always wished we were.
“You don’t have to marry him, silly,” Lisa says. “Not right away, anyhow. It’s just nice to see you crushing on someone.”
“Right,” Missy agrees. “Someone who thinks you’re fabulous enough to take on a luxury trip to Ponderosa Resort.”
“Exactly!” Lisa smiles. “Gary’s never taken me to Ponderosa Resort.”
Maybe it’s the wine. Maybe it’s the fact that my sisters are being weirdly nice to me, at least in their own snobby way. Maybe it’s the fact that I might be ready to admit it. Yes, I really do want to date Simon. Not just the sex stuff.
And I think he might feel the same. I hope he does, anyway.
He could have taken anyone on that trip to Ponderosa Resort, but he chose to go with me.
He could have skipped the uncomfortable items on the list like the snow sex, but he didn’t.
He could have whipped through The List in a matter of days, but he’s taken his time.
He’s gotten to know me— not just my turn-ons, but how I like my coffee and what I love about my job.
You don’t do that if you just want sex, right?
“Yeah,” I concede, taking a small sip of my own wine. I realize I’m smiling, and I’m not sure when that happened. “I’m into him. More than I have been with anyone for a while.”
My sisters titter and exchange a knowing smile.
“I thought so!” Missy bites triumphantly into a crudité.
“Do you have any photos of him?” Lisa asks.
I start to pull out my phone, but Missy waves me aside. “Let’s wait. Our pedicure appointment is in thirty minutes, and I want to grab coffee before we go.”
“Come on.” Lisa grabs my hand. “Let’s get our stuff from the coat-check guy.”
We get bundled up in rain gear and gloves. The weather’s chilly outside, but it’s not raining at the moment. That makes it a rare day on the Oregon coast. I zip up my kelly-green raincoat and head down the boardwalk with my sisters flanking me in their designer rain gear.
“Brooks texted,” Missy says as she links her arm through mine. “He says to tell everyone hi.”
“Hi, Brooks,” Lisa choruses with a little eye roll that makes me like her more. “Gary’s giving me space this weekend. He knows it’s a girls’ weekend.”
“Hmph,” says Missy, clearly unsure who just won the competition. She turns to me. “How about you, Cassie?”
“What about me?”
“Have you heard from your boyfriend?”
“He’s not my boyfriend,” I remind them, feeling my cheeks warm up just a little. I blame it on the wind.
“Oh, please,” Lisa says. “A guy doesn’t take you to Ponderosa Resort and a romantic trip to the mountains for no reason.”
The List. The List was his reason. Or was it? I bite back the urge to tell them the whole stupid story. To get their take on what’s happening between us. My sisters have always been experts on relationships and dating in ways I could never fathom.