I have certain… obligations.
I can’t afford to be distracted.
He’d told me — granted in his cryptic, close-mouthed, controlling way — that he had things in his life he needed to sort out. I just hadn’t been in the mood to listen, too insulted at being called a distraction to hear him out or give him the benefit of the doubt. And, if I’m honest with myself, too hurt and insecure at the idea that he’d never look at me the way I looked at him to stand there for another minute.
My cheeks heat with embarrassment. “Am I an idiot?” I ask quietly, causing all three of them to look sharply in my direction.
Chrissy lays a comforting hand on my arm. “Of course not, honey. You had every right to storm out of there, after what he said. But…”
I look at her expectantly. “But what?”
“Well, I don’t think he’d make the effort of bringing you all the way across town to his office if he just wanted to check in on you. A man like that doesn’t doanythingwithout a purpose — and, honey, I’d assume the purpose in this scenario was to get a better look at what he sampled last night at the game.”
“You’re crazy,” I say, dismissing her immediately and glancing at Shelby. “She’s crazy, right? Back me up here, Shelbs.”
Shelby shakes her head. “Sorry, I have to agree with the preggo-nutcase on this one. No way would Chase Fucking Croft care about some random girl enough to follow up. If he’s really the CEO now, he’s got, like, a billion assistants working for him who very easily could’ve tracked you down on his behalf. Instead, he arranged to see you in person — in his private office, no less — to explain himself. I don’t care how many times you deny it — he’s interested in you, Gemma. Even if he pushed you away and gave some spiel aboutobligationsanddistractions… it still sounds to me like he’s torn.”
“Torn?” I ask, almost afraid to hear her answer.
“Between wanting you and wanting to keep his life as simple as possible, now that he’s back in the States and smack-dab in the middle of sorting out his family drama.”
“Right,” Chrissy jumps in. “He knows he wants you, but he also knows he can’t have what he wants.Eeek!This is even better than the daytime TV soaps I’ve been watching.Passion! Intrigue! Family secrets! Forbidden love!”
Mark snorts. “No matter how many times I hear you ladies dissect and overanalyze a man’s motives, it never gets even marginally less insane.”
Chrissy’s smile fades as her gaze moves to her husband. “You want crazy?” Her eyes narrow. “I’ve still got three more weeks of bed rest. I’llshowyou crazy.”
Mark just grins at her affectionately and heads to the kitchen to retrieve the bottle and refill our glasses. And sitting there, sipping wine with my best friends, for the first time in two days — or maybe longer, if I really let myself think about it — I feel a weight lifted off my shoulders, because I know, whether it’s Rat Bastard Ralph or Chase Freaking Croft or nobody at all, I don’t need a man in my life to be happy.
Not when I’ve got them.
***
In case you’re wondering, I know it’s rare — the three of us staying friends, despite being in totally different phases of life. I’ve seen many BFF-bonds fall by the wayside when one girl got married, leaving her former bestie alone to struggle through the mires of single-hood without a wing-woman. And I get it — it can be tough, sometimes, to relate to Chrissy’s discussions of diaper cream and Shelby’s complaints about Paul never making it home for her all-vegan dinners, just as I’m sure it’s hard for them to hear about my previously pathetic love life which, until this week, consisted of a string of men just like Ralph.
Maybe it’s because, even when they were both single, they never really understood my choices when it came to love — probably because they couldn’t grasp the fact that I wasn’t looking for it.
See, people always make the mistake of assuming that sex and intimacy go hand in hand, that you can’t have one without the other, but they’re wrong. My friends talk about sex like it’s this perfect, intimate act, with fireworks exploding behind eyelids and worlds shifting and mountains moving. They’re alwaysmaking love, neverfucking. As if a girl can’t simply enjoy the mechanical processes that lead to a good orgasm without wanting a rock the size of Texas on her left ring finger and a Pinterest board full of organza dress ideas.
They don’t talk about the satisfaction of sex without strings because, even though men do it all the time, for some reason it’s still somewhat of a scandal if a modern woman’s number of sexual partners exceeds single digits.
Here’s your meaningless, mind-blowing orgasm, served up with a side of slut-shaming and unfair societal expectations. Enjoy!
Maybe they choose to forget. Maybe they’ve watched too many movies, read too many romance novels, believed too many COSMO articles promising that sex is always this beautiful, soul-baring act. And, hey, maybe itislike that for some people, every single time.
Somehow, I doubt it.
The bottom line is, sex is sex.
No intimacy required.
And, I, for one, have always been perfectly okay with that. This brave new world of sexual satisfaction without emotional investment has suited me just fine, even if Shelby and Chrissy think I’m defying the laws of nature because I’m not actively searching forThe One.
I’ve always thought, a little cockily, that I know something they don’t.
That there is noOne. That he doesn’t exist on any level other than fantasy.
But as I sip down my wine and look at Mark’s hand on Chrissy’s pregnant stomach, as I hear the softness in Shelby’s voice when she calls Paul to let him know she’ll be home late…