It’s her company is on the tip of my tongue, but I bite it back because Dorian and his wife are private people, and one of the reasons my friendship with Dorian has survived the years is he trusts me.
“Wait. Didn’t they get divorced? Is this wife number two?”
“Same wife,” I say. The world believes they divorced, but in actuality, they separated for years—neither of them signed the papers, which says everything. But talking about this at all makes me feel like I’m gossiping about Dorian.
“Oh, but I remember.” She snaps her fingers. “They split and got back together. Divorce must’ve been prohibitively expensive. And you’d think of all people Dorian Moore could afford a divorce—I guess you just never know.”
“Would you quit it?” I admonish. “Dorian can afford a divorce. He never wanted one.”
“But you’re not close to his wife, right?”
“Dorian met her after we’d lost touch. She came along after college, after our crowd had scattered. But remember when Nick and Dorian spent that weekend with us in the city?”
“How could I forget.”
“He was with her then. I think she had exams or something. And that’s kind of the norm. I see Dorian when she’s unavailable and he’s filling time.”
“How is Nick?”
“I’m honestly not sure. Nick hasn’t come up in conversation—” There’s something in Christine’s posture that reminds me— “You and Nick hooked up that weekend.”
Now I’m grinning, and she’s struggling not to.
“It was a fun weekend. Let’s leave it at that.”
She sips her coffee, holding the mug with both hands, clearly covering her smile. But when she sets it down on the table, she says, “And now you’re with the hot bodyguard that Dorian has insisted stay in your home. Funny how we come full circle.”
“He’s hot. I’m not going to deny that. But just like you and Nick had fun…that’s all this is.”
Guilt stabs at me, slicing through my integrity. But it’s easiest to downplay it, and I’m not ready to dissect what’s going on.
“Because he’s younger?” She’s probing, as I guess any good friend would.
“He’s young. Just out of the military. His whole life is still ahead of him—he’s figuring out what comes next.” I’m not a next. I’m a now. “It’s fun. Like you and Nick.”
Fun. The word feels too light for what’s happening between Noah and me. There’s heat, yes—but also comfort. Safety. And that’s the part that’s unnerving.
“Yeah, that was one weekend. Nick made it clear up front it was only a thing. Has this guy?—”
“Noah.”
“Yeah, Noah, has he made the same thing clear?”
“Yes, we’ve had the discussion.”
She eyes me with her you-are-full-of-it expression.
“We have.” I say it firmly, selling the position. “And come on. He’s got his life in front of him. He’s not thinking forever with a single mom.”
She still stares.
“What?”
“I am so jealous. My date last night?”
“I thought it was work.”
“Date,” she says. “Fifty-five. Nice enough. What you would call appropriate, right?”