Chapter 21
“You’re alive!” Alex’s voice came out in a squeal that made me pull my phone away from my ear. “Where are you?”
I’d sent a somewhat cryptic message to the group chat the day before just to let my friends know I was okay.
I hadn’t mentioned vomiting on or staying with Jake or really anything other than that I’d been sick.
I’d have to tell them sometime, but after last night, I wanted time to think on my own before I added in other opinions. Even well-meaning ones.
“On my way to the studio.” I’d woken up at five thirty and kissed a still sleepy Jake goodbye before heading home for a shower and clean clothes.
I sent him a text, thanking him again for everything, in case he didn’t remember the kiss when he finally got up.
I didn’t want him to think I snuck out. Especially not after our time together in the middle of the night.
“Oh, good. That must mean you’re feeling better. You should have let us bring you soup or something. You know Meredith’s care packages are legendary.”
“I know.” Of all of us, Meredith was by far the most maternal.
Whenever one of us got sick, she showed up with soup, fresh baked bread, and her amazing kitchen sink cookies.
They had dark chocolate, caramel, nuts, toffee, and some other kind of magic that made them irresistible.
“I wasn’t sick long enough to need anything. ”
Alex let out a derisive noise but seemed content not to push. At least for now. I’d gone as far as I could with the lie of omission. I hadn’t needed anything—Jake took care of everything—but I wasn’t willing to outright lie to my friend.
“I’d still have let her bring cookies. Anyway, I’m glad you’re better. Charlotte’s thing is just a few weeks away. I wouldn’t want to be you if you missed it.”
“Not a chance.” I opened the door to my studio and flipped the sign in the window. I didn’t get a lot of walk-in business, but the ritual of turning the sign from Closed to Open did good things for my brain. “Do you have time on Saturday to go over the last few details?”
With Meredith handling the catering, it was mostly ordering the florals and rentals, but Erik and Alex volunteered to handle the bar, and I wanted to make sure we had mixers and everything else covered.
Kindra would meet us the morning of to help with the set up, but I wanted to get together with Alex and Meredith one more time before then.
“Absolutely. We can get there early, and you can tell me how things went with the toys. You’ll have a chance to play by then, won’t you?”
I put the kettle on for coffee and said a silent prayer of gratitude that I hadn’t told Alex when I’d actually planned to get together with Jake.
She’d never have let me off the hook. Then, almost as quickly, I wondered when—if—Jake would want to play again.
Last night definitely shifted things. What if we’d gotten too close to a relationship and he wasn’t looking for that?
We’d been clear early on about expectations and rules.
We broke a lot of them in the past forty-eight hours.
“Are you still there?” Alex asked, calling me back to the newly complicated present.
“Sorry. I’m here.” I dropped a scoop of coffee into the French press. “Just making coffee. I don’t know if we’ll have time by then.”
“Don’t be silly. Make time, and then I want all the details. I’m glad you’re feeling better.”
I hung up the phone and poured boiling water over the grounds, breathing in the fortifying aroma of coffee while I tried to work out what to do about Jake.
I’d sent the last text, so the answer was probably nothing.
Not until he responded. As if the Universe had taken to listening to me, almost as soon as I had the thought, my phone buzzed with an incoming text.
I picked it up, anxious to see what Jake wrote, but it was a text from John.
J
I’ve been thinking about the picture you sent of the cornstalk ironwork. It sent me down a French Quarter ironwork rabbit hole. Maybe we could do something special for our project. If you don’t think it would be too cliche.
I’d responded to John’s text about scheduling details while I was at Jake’s but I hadn’t bothered to tell him I’d been sick. There was no reason to.
ME
I’m sure we can come up with a way to incorporate ironwork. I thought you’d like the cornstalks. They’re from Philadelphia.
J
I did. Very much. It’s not the only thing I can’t stop thinking about.
I held my breath, not sure how to respond.
I didn’t want to lead John on. If I hadn’t spent the past two days with Jake, I’d have been happy to flirt.
I might not be sure about dating a client, but I’d been sure John was exactly the kind of man I should date.
I had no idea what Jake felt, but something had definitely changed for me.
I just wasn’t sure what or how much. I held my finger over the screen, willing an appropriate response to come to me. John saved me from myself.
J
I hate that I can’t get back to the city sooner, but I’ll be there for the benefit. We can revisit our discussion then.
ME
I’m looking forward to it.
I might be flirting with the truth. I seemed to be doing a fair bit of that lately, but my response was benign enough for now. Ignoring everything but my coffee for a moment, I pushed the plunger on the French press and poured a cup of the dark French roast I loved into my vintage Antoine’s teacup.
The cobalt-blue decorated cups, from the 1840s restaurant’s early days, were shaped like a teacup but thicker than porcelain so they kept my coffee hot longer.
I checked my emails and responded to the cabinet maker about the details for the Benoit project.
By the time I finished my second cup, I had things lined up for the built-in bookshelves and the upholsterer.
Hitting my stride, I called the client to confirm and to assure her I’d be there to oversee the installation.
I’d be glad when I could turn this kind of admin work over to an assistant.
My phone buzzed again, but this time I didn’t jump. It was a text from Jake.
JAKE
I could have sworn I fell asleep with a gorgeous woman, warm and willing, in my arms, but I woke up alone. Do you know what might have happened to her? Or was it all a dream?
I pressed my lips together in a futile attempt to hide my grin. At least Alex wasn’t here to see it. If I had any real question about how I felt about Jake, my face seemed more than happy to provide an answer. I couldn’t stop smiling if I tried.
ME
That’s a vivd imagination you’ve got.
I watched the phone, waiting for his response like my eye contact somehow maintained the connection.
JAKE
That’s a shame. It felt so real. And perfect.
ME
That’s the word I’d have used to describe it.
JAKE
So not a dream then?
ME
Not unless it was one of those communal dreams.
JAKE
Brilliant. That means we can repeat the experience. Not the part where you hurl on my feet.
ME
We’re never talking about that again.
JAKE
Fair. I’m mostly interested in the part where I get to cradle your head against my chest while I fuck you until we both come.
It was still sexting, which was normal for us, but it didn’t feel the same. I drew in a breath, trying to catalogue my feelings. I liked this new tender version of us. I liked that I’d started to think of us as an us.
ME
That’s what I’m most interested in too.
There was a pause where I couldn’t tell if he was trying to decide how to respond or if I’d gone too far. I knew it was ridiculous, but my nerves weren’t quite on board yet.
JAKE
I know you’re probably buried with work today, but it you have time tomorrow night, I wondered if you wanted to play girlfriend.
I couldn’t tell whether he meant just play or whether he was talking about actually dating. And I didn’t know which one I wanted more.
JAKE
It’s like slutty secretary but without the spanking. And maybe with noodles and a movie.
That felt like familiar ground but with some of the other stuff I’d just discovered I wanted.
ME
That sounds good. Your place at 7?
We didn’t usually get together in the evening, but we didn’t usually watch movies or eat together either.
JAKE
That works.
He didn’t say it was, but if it looked like a duck and quacked like a duck, did that mean it was a date?