4. “Friday I’m In Love” #2
“Oh, please.” She shoveled a bite of pie into her mouth. “She’s not at all his type.”
Jocelyn frowned. “Wren, I’m pretty sure they’re dating because she is exactly his type.”
The fork hit the plate with a clatter. “What? Are you saying he’s in a relationship and sleeping with you?”
“No. Well… He’s allowed to date.”
“What about you?”
“What about me? I told you, there’s nothing serious going on between us. We’re just passing time.”
Wren frowned. “You’re not sleeping together?”
“Well…”
“See, it’s still going on, so it has to mean something.”
“There is no it.”
She rolled her eyes. “When’s the last time you slept together?”
“Wren—”
“Don’t even. When I finally slept with Greyson, you made me tell you every dirty detail. You owe me the truth.”
Jocelyn pursed her lips, unable to argue with her there. “Last week.”
“Last week? And he’s still seeing that floozy?”
“We don’t have rules. He’s allowed to see whoever he wants. Besides, I’m pretty sure it’s over between us.”
“Why? What happened?” The dramatic disappointment in her voice gave Jocelyn pause.
“How are you so invested in this?”
“Um, two of my best friends are having sex. That’s a pretty big deal.”
“It’s just sex.”
“There’s no such thing as just sex.”
“You think that, because you’ve only ever slept with Greyson. Trust me, for other people, casual sex is only sex.”
“I’ve known Soren my entire life. Nothing about that man is casual.”
“Exactly. And Soren and I were less than casual. We’re, like, eight stories below casual, somewhere in the basement of accidental. He’s a fuck boy. A drive-by booty call. It was never turning into anything more.”
“But you were there for him when Magnus died.”
“Death does weird things to people. He was sad, and I did something to get his mind off his dad.” She didn’t need to know that wasn’t the first time.
Wren sat back and dusted the pie crumbs off her belly. “I don’t believe you.”
“Fine, but I’m telling you the truth.”
“No!” She threw her hands in a mini-tantrum. “I know you care about him!”
“I really don’t. We’ve always gotten on each other’s nerves. We would kill each other in a relationship.”
Her friend’s hope deflated. “Is the sex at least good?”
Jocelyn wanted to lie, but couldn’t get the fib out.
At her silence, Wren smiled. “It is good!” She clapped like an excited seal. “How good?”
For the first time in probably twenty years, Jocelyn felt a flush burn over her cheeks. “It’s…above average.”
“How above?”
It was suddenly roasting in the dining room. “Fine,” she growled. “It’s great, but that doesn’t mean anything, Wren, so get that hopeful look out of your eyes.”
“Great?”
“Yes! What do you want me to say? Is it some of the best sex I’ve ever had? Maybe.”
“Maybe?”
She growled again. “Definitely.”
“Definitely?” Wren laughed.
“So what if he fucks my brains out, and I’m probably addicted to his dick. It doesn’t matter!”
“He’s the best sex you’ve ever had, and that doesn’t matter to you?”
“Who’s the best sex you’ve ever had?” Logan asked, scaring the crap out of both of them.
“Where the hell did you come from?”
“I’m very stealth. Who you fuckin’, Collins?”
“None of your business, Hawthorne.”
He looked at Wren and smirked. When Wren instantly avoided eye contact, he closed the distance. “Come on, Wren. Spill. You know you can’t keep secrets from me.”
“Wren,” Jocelyn said in warning. “Don’t you dare.”
“Wren…” Logan chanted in a slow sing-song voice. “Let it out. You know you want to. Who’s giving Jocelyn that gold-star dick?”
“Greyson!” Wren called for her husband. “Logan’s picking on me.”
“You big baby.” Logan relented the second his older brother stormed into the dining room.
His gaze went to the crumpled napkin and scowled. “Did you make my pregnant wife cry?”
“No, that was me,” Jocelyn said, finishing off the second bottle of wine.
Greyson growled. “Knock it off. Both of you.” He glared at Logan. “Let’s go. We’re still not done out there.”
Once the boys were gone, Wren gave her a sheepish look.
Jocelyn shook her head. “Tattletale.”
Wren giggled, not denying the accusation. “So, what happens now, Joce?”
“Now?” She shrugged. “I continue doing what I always do. Write books, live my life, show up for Town Hall meetings, go to signings, and move on.”
“No. There has to be more.”
“Why? Maybe this was all it was ever meant to be. Or maybe it was never meant to happen in the first place. Soren’s always had big plans, and those plans never included me.”
“Plans change.”
As much as she loved Wren for being the kind of best friend that would take her personal life so personally, her refusal to let this fantasy go was complicating Jocelyn’s own position. She had to stay grounded in reality and know where to draw the line.
“You know the kind of women he likes. I’ll never be like them. I’m never going to change, and neither is he. Why should either of us have to settle?”
“But on some level, don’t you care about him?”
Jocelyn lowered her gaze to the table and twirled the stem of her once again empty wine glass. Her mind went to that first night. Not the funeral, but the night of the lobster trap tree lighting.
Yes, she cared. Probably too much. That was the problem.
“I need to be realistic here, Wren.” Otherwise, she could get hurt.
Wren, reading her mind, reached for her hand and whispered, “Soren would never intentionally hurt you, Joce.”
“I know. But I also don’t want to hurt him. I don’t want to get in his way and I…” She thought about the way they bickered and how they constantly needed to get the last word in on each other. “I don’t want him to hate me.”
“Deep down, Soren loves you. How could he not? You’ve been his friend since grade school.”
But they both knew that kind of platonic affection was not the same as real love. It wasn’t the kind of love to build a life around.
She pulled her hand free. “We’re never going to be compatible that way. And I have to pee.” Pulling back her chair before Wren could say more, Jocelyn escaped to the bathroom.
As she washed her hands, she stared back at her reflection as if looking at a different person who knew all her secrets and silently called her out on the lies. But that person also knew why she needed to let this go.
Instead of returning to the dining room, she went to the barn to see what the boys were doing. The wine had gone to her head, so when it came time to leave, she thought it best to walk home.
“You’re walking home in the dark? Let Grey drive you,” Wren argued.
“It’s a beautiful night. I’ll be fine.” Honestly, she needed to clear her head.
“I’ll walk with you,” Logan volunteered, and that seemed enough to curb Wren’s worry.
“Thanks.” She kissed Wren’s cheek and thanked her for dinner. “I’ll be back for my car in the morning.”
Logan had moved into Magnus’s estate where the boys had grown up, and it was somewhat on the way to Jocelyn’s house, so she understood why he offered to walk with her, even if she hadn’t felt the need for a bodyguard. It was Hideaway Bay after all.
Once out of the woods, they walked along the coast, enjoying the sea breeze and the soft whisper of night crawlers chirping from the reeds. “Dinner was good tonight.”
“Yeah,” Jocelyn agreed. “Can’t go wrong with tacos.”
They moved at a casual pace. “So, this guy you’re banging, anyone special?”
“I knew you weren’t going to let that go.”
“Why the secrecy?”
She was silent for several steps. “It’s not secrecy if there is nothing notable to share.” The weather shifted, and she shivered.
“Want my sweater?”
“No, I’m fine.” If anything, the chill was sobering her up.
Logan nodded, accepting her decision. “Casual relationships are the hardest.”
She glanced up at him in question. “You sound like you’ve been there.”
“I have.”
“Really? With who?”
He shrugged, and she had no right to push when she refused to share her secrets.
“Sometimes, chemistry isn’t enough. Other times, there’s no sexual chemistry whatsoever, but they’re a perfect match for you in every other way.”
She laughed because she knew exactly what he meant. “So unfair.”
He made a small sound of agreement. “Life would be so easy if we could all find what Wren and Greyson have.”
“Tell me about it.”
They followed the sea wall around the bend towards the cove. Street lamps dotted the coast as the moon spilled a silver stream of light over the horizon. Stars sparkled in the inky black sky, and it was a shame such a romantic night was wasted on them.
“Moon’s big tonight.”
“If that’s an ass joke—”
“No,” he laughed and pointed to the sky.
“It’s September. That means it’s a harvest moon.” A cool breeze cut from the coast. Autumn was officially sweeping in.
“You sure you don’t want my sweater?”
“I’m sure. But thanks.”
In the distance, Salt & Ember glowed like a crowned jewel. She knew Soren was there. It was where he took all his Friday night dates. So why had she chosen to walk this way when there were ten other ways to get home?
Maybe this was some new sadistic strategy to get over him.
Like that kiss she witnessed today, and the perfume she smelled on his clothes last week, she needed the lasting sting as a reminder of why these sorts of affairs were unhealthy. If she could feel that ache enough, she might stop foolishly feeling other annoyingly squishy emotions.
“Hey, I think that’s Soren’s car.”
“Looks like it—Ah!” She stumbled off the curb.
“Careful.” Logan did his best to catch her, but it was too late. Her foot landed awkwardly, and her ankle folded painfully.
“Son of a mother fucker!” Jocelyn staggered gracelessly, the pain chasing away any lingering tipsiness from dinner.
“Here, sit down.”
“I’m fine.”
“No, you’re not. You might have a sprain.”
“It’s these stupid shoes!” She plucked off the heels and tossed them several feet away.
Logan steadied her. “I think you should let me look at it.”
“Fine.” She gritted her teeth, annoyed by her clumsiness, and hobbled to a lamp post for support.
He dropped to one knee, and for a moment, he looked so much like Soren a chill chased down her spine.
Carefully, he cupped her arch and bent her foot back and forth. “Does that hurt?”