“Yes, my life is so glam.”
“I’m serious,” she screeches. “You’re always put together. You have a closet to die for. You have an ex-husband who comes running when you call and wants what’s best for you and the two of you co-parent like pros. Your reputation in DC practically glows neon.”
I wave a hand, waving her off.
“Look, I know you work for it. I’m your bestie. I see how hard you work for it, but the fact it looks so easy is very annoying. But, as your bestie, I’m here to tell you that one thing that’s hard is dating.” She slams her Bloody Mary down on the table hard enough some of the tomato juice splashes over the side. “If you don’t take advantage of what fell in your lap, I’m going to grow livid. Or…no…I’m not. Dump him and I’ll come over at night to console him.” She snaps her fingers. “That’s what we should do.” She clucks her tongue. “Give him my number.”
“No,” I snap back.
“That’s right. And if you did end it, he’s already in my no-date zone. Because you, my friend, are not one who plays around lightly. You’re just in denial—and here’s the reality: You’re into him, and these little excuses you’re making are just that—pointless excuses.”
Over the course of the next hour, Christine somehow pulls out most of what’s gone on with me and Noah. I admit that I have enjoyed having him close—and that it’s hands down the best sex I’ve had in my life. Christine’s response to that last part is entirely unprintable. We never mention my police interrogation—and I’m grateful. I needed this—just time with a friend and focusing on the lighter side of life.
Later on, when Stella and I are back home and Noah has gone out for what he calls his Saturday long run, my brunch conversation runs through my mind on repeat.
“What do you think of Noah?” I ask.
Stella is sitting on the sofa in the living room, watching a TV show on her iPad. For years, I tried to force her to watch television shows on the television screen, but I’ve about decided the fight is futile.
“He’s nice.” She tugs at the blanket that’s over her legs. “He’s cool.”
“We had dinner last night. I think he’s a nice guy.”
She lowers the iPad. “Like a date?”
“I mean…” I toy with my grandmother’s watch, silently cursing Christine for egging me into this position.
“Mom.” Stella’s no-nonsense tone captures my full attention. “It’s not like I’m harboring any hope of you and Dad getting back together. I don’t care if you date. And I like him. He’s helping me improve my game.”
“Basketball?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, he won’t be here much longer.”
“Well,” she says, playing my word right back at me, “If he is, I like him. He gets my thumbs up.” I smile, but something twists low in my chest. Stella’s easy acceptance feels like permission—and that, somehow, makes me more uneasy than judgment would have.
She goes back to her TV show and on the way out I pause, leaning against the doorway, watching her, comforted by the normalcy of it. The smell of coffee still lingers in the air, sunlight pooling across the rug. For the first time in weeks, everything feels ordinary again. Which, of course, is exactly when things usually fall apart.
Chapter
Twenty-One
Noah
My work cell rings as I grab it off the charger. Fresh shower, post-workout high—I was just heading out for lunch.
“Noah Bennett.”
“Hey Noah, it’s Quinn. Do you have a minute?”
“Fire away.”
“Hudson asked me to call.” There’s something in her tone that doesn’t sit right. “A background check on you just hit the system.”
“Is that right?”
“Can you think of any reason? I mean, are you applying for other jobs or?—”