Chapter 13 #2
Sarah nods and says around a mouthful of canape, “Yep.”
“Oh, honey.” Missy reaches out and pats her hand. “I know you were hoping he was going to ask you to move in.”
Sarah shrugs and wipes her mouth with the back of her hand before I can pass her one of my hand-embroidered linen napkins.
“Another one bites the dust.” She picks up her wineglass and takes a fortifying sip.
“You guys are sick of hearing about my stupid breakups, and I don’t feel like talking about it anyway.
” She pastes on a shaky smile and turns to Cassie.
“What were you saying about friendship salad?”
When Cassie hesitates, Sarah gives her a good-natured nudge with her elbow. “I’m serious, I’m fine,” she says. “I don’t want to be that girl who’s always talking about her lousy breakups at girls’ night. So, friendship salad?”
I grab the conversational baton and run with it. “Cassie thinks it’s a dumb name, but I happen to like the idea.”
“I like the idea,” Cassie says. “Just not the name.”
“Spoken by the woman whose contributions look like something pillaged from the crisper drawer in a frat house,” Missy retorts.
Cassie shrugs and bites into a crudité. “What can I say? I’ve been in Baker City all week testing soil pH levels at a former landfill site, and then I spent two days catching up with Simon.”
“I’m not sure we need to know what ‘catching up’ is code for,” Sarah says with a grin. “That’s my boss we’re talking about.”
Cassie flushes with pleasure while I set to work chopping the artichoke hearts I’ve marinated all week in a special blend of lemon, bay leaves, olive oil, and juniper berries.
“Anyway, I happen to love friendship salad,” I say.
“I adore the idea of all of us contributing something to make a great big salad filled with a little love from everyone.”
Cassie pretends to gag, but I know she doesn’t mean it. Her pores practically ooze love. I’ve seen the way she and Simon make goo-goo eyes at each other when no one’s looking. There’s lust, sure, but also a mix of respect and love and affection that takes my breath away sometimes.
“I want that,” I say out loud.
The three women look at me, then each other.
“The limp carrot?” Missy points and starts to hand it to me, but I shake my head.
“No, I’ll pass on that. I meant— Never mind.”
Hell. I didn’t mean to bring this up. To talk about my growing feelings for Dax. But the way my sisters are eyeing me says they’ll get it out of me one way or another.
“Speaking of limp carrots, how are things with Dax?” Sarah says with a faux casual air.
I give an unladylike snort-laugh and grab a radish off the sideboard. “His carrot is most definitely not limp,” I assure her. “And honestly, it’s more like a late-season zephyr squash or a Costata Romanesco zucchini.”
Missy’s eyes widen, while Cassie busts out laughing and swipes a slice of radish off my cutting board. “I thought you had that look about you.”
“What do you mean?” I demand, swatting her away from my pile of thinly sliced veggies.
“You’re all cheerful and glowing lately,” Cassie says. “Like a woman getting laid well and often.”
Sarah grins and heaves an intentionally dramatic sigh. “Lucky bitch.”
It’s the nicest compliment anyone’s paid me in a long time, and I try not to let it show how pleased I am.
Ever the peacemaker, Missy reaches across the counter to pat Sarah’s hand. “Someday your prince will come.”
“And then, so will you,” Cassie adds. “Over and over and over—”
“Why didn’t you ever tell me about the multiple orgasm thing?” I blurt out the question before thinking it through, but I don’t regret it. Honestly, I like that I finally have something substantial to bring to the table of girl talk.
Three pairs of eyes swing to me, and everyone stops laughing. “What?” Missy says.
Heat creeps into my cheeks, but I’m determined to press on with the risqué girl talk. I’ve never been part of it this way. I’ve listened, sure, but I haven’t had something noteworthy to contribute until now.
“I—uh—I guess I never realized it was possible to—” I give a flourished gesture with the knife, hoping at least one of them will fill in the blank.
Cassie grins and picks up her wineglass. “I’m pretty sure I’ve mentioned—” She gives an exaggerated flourish to mimic mine, making my cheeks heat up again. “So to speak,” she adds. “Didn’t you believe me?”
I shake my head, torn between feeling embarrassed and excited. Like I’m part of the club or something. “I guess I never realized,” I say. “I never thought it could be like that.”
Missy studies my face, her eagle eyes missing nothing. “You’re talking about sex, right? Just sex? That’s still all it is?”
They’re all watching me, like they know the secret thoughts I’ve been having all week.
Like when Dax called Tuesday night to make sure I got home safely from a job over in Gresham, and we stayed on the phone talking until almost midnight.
It wasn’t even phone sex, which—FYI— should probably be on my sexual bucket list.
If I keep adding things, maybe The Test will never end? Like maybe I could propose an extension beyond the thirty days we agreed to at the start.
The ladies are still staring, so I force myself to keep a neutral expression as I pick up Cassie’s carrot and start to peel it.
“Right,” I say slowly. “It’s still just sex.”
I focus all my attention on the carrot, reminding myself to keep it that way. Sex without love, that’s what we agreed.
There’s a knock at the door, and Sarah looks down at her phone. “Oh, that’s Simon.”
“Don’t worry, I already told him he can’t stay,” Cassie says. “This is girls’ night. He’s just dropping off Junie.”
But as she gets up and opens the door for him, it’s clear she’s thrilled to bits to lay eyes on her fiancé. Her whole body seems to float, and she greets him like they’ve been apart six years instead of six hours.
Lucky bitch, indeed.
“Hi, everybody!” Junie hustles into the room.
She’s wearing a T-shirt emblazoned with an electric guitar, the logo for the National Down Syndrome Association, and the words, “I’m rockin’ this extra chromosome.
” She marches in wearing a Mariners cap and holding a plastic bag of produce.
“I told Simon to stop at the store so I could buy things for the friendship salad,” she announces as she thrusts the bag at me.
“That’s perfect, Junie, thank you.” As I stretch my hand out for the bag of tomatoes, she tilts her head to study me.
“You’re in love?” Her expression’s so earnest, her words so startling, that conversation grinds to a halt. Everyone stops talking at once. The room goes silent, all eyes fixed on me.
“What?” My cheeks go hot, probably the same color as these tomatoes. “No, of course not. Why do you think that?” I glance from Missy to Cassie to Simon and back to Junie again, waiting for one of them to rescue me.
Unfazed, Junie keeps peering at me with intense curiosity. “I think you love somebody,” she says. “You look like you do. Like when Simon and Cassie started to love each other that way.”
My cheeks go hotter, and I decide to focus on the tomatoes.
I set to work washing them—the tomatoes, not my cheeks—and hope no one notices how awkward I’m being.
“I’ve been dating a man, sure, but it’s nothing serious.
” I’m trying for breezy, but I sound like I sucked on a helium balloon.
“You met Dax. The guy with the motorcycle? He’s really just a good friend. ”
My voice wobbles a little, and I’m certain it doesn’t go unnoticed. I glance up to see Junie smiling like she’s just uncovered life’s greatest truth.
“You love him,” she repeats.
It’s a statement this time, not a question. Part of me that can’t help but wonder if she’s onto something.
“Come on,” I say, desperate to change the subject. “Let’s get this salad put together so we can eat.”
Junie smiles, and my stomach does a funny somersault.
I’m pretty sure I’m fooling no one, least of all myself.