Her blonde hair and bright smile instantly calm any residual feelings of uneasiness from Roman.
“What are you doing here?” I scream.
She walks in and opens her arms. “I finally get my best friend back in the state. I’m here to celebrate.”
I wrap my arms around her, not realizing how much I needed this. My own parents didn’t even show up to welcome me back home. They’re still upset that I’m focusing my efforts on my career and not finding a suitable man to marry.
My mother called me just the other night to tell me that her friends were all talking about weddings and babies. Then she said she conveniently ran into a friend whose son was a doctor and newly single.
I pull away and try to contain the thick feelings of emotion sitting heavily on my chest. “Come on in. I was just going to start getting my room unpacked.”
“If you need someone to organize your closet, I’m your girl.”
She follows me into the kitchen. I take the champagne from her and place it on the island then begin to open it. The cork flies up and hits the ceiling. We both scream, as usual, the fear of being hit by the flying cork a very real threat every single time.
I fill the glasses, and she holds hers up to toast.
“Two best friends back together and taking New York City by storm.”
I giggle as I clink my glass to hers, then take a sip. The bubbles instantly dance around my tongue like tiny, bouncy balls.
“You’re going to get me into trouble, aren’t you?”
She shrugs her shoulders innocently. “Who, me? I’d never.”
We both burst into a fit of laughter.
Jessie is a known troublemaker. She is fiercely independent and not afraid to make a scene. But she has a huge heart, and most of the scenes she makes are to stand up for what’s right. That’s why I love her.
She’s a lawyer who worked in Washington, DC, for years and just moved back to New York only a year ago to join a new firm. Jessie works in family law and spends most of her time trying to help women involved in domestic violence prove their case and get full custody of the kids. It’s a stressful job that oftentimes leaves her feeling beaten down and pessimistic about the world we live in. It’s my job to try to make sure she sees the good in the world.
“Come on. Let me give you a tour.”
I lead her around the apartment while she oohs and aahs at all the features. We end up in the master bedroom, where we start to open boxes and hang my clothes up in the large closet.
“Eva, this place is insane. How can you afford it?”
Before I grab another dress, I take a big sip of my champagne. “My brother insists on covering the rent. I can’t afford a place like this, but he didn’t feel safe with my choices. Plus, his best friend owns the building and happens to live upstairs in the penthouse. It’s his way of keeping tabs on me.”
“Ugh, Walker needs to get a life. He has been up your ass since the day you got boobs.”
“Jessie”—I laugh as I swat her arm— “you’re so vulgar. And he is not up my ass. He just worries about me. I know it’s a little much at times, but his heart is in the right place.”
She pulls out a strapless red dress with a sweetheart neckline that basically ends just below my ass. “Eva Harlow, this dress is fabulous. I would never have pictured you going for something so … revealing.”
“I’ve never had the guts to wear it. Hence the tag that’s still on it.”
“Well, that’s our mission now that you’ve got me back in your life on the regular. We are going to loosen you up. When’s the last time you had sex?”
Not this again. Ever since I told her that I didn’t really enjoy sex, she has made it her personal mission to figure out why.
“Don’t get started on this,” I sigh.
Jessie’s hands fall to her hips. “Answer the question.”
“Fine! It’s been, like …” I stop and ponder for a moment. Chad and I dated for six months and broke up around April of last year.Shit. “I guess it’s been a year.”
She doesn’t even respond, just gets back to work. Leaving Jessie at a loss for words is a bad sign.