“I am not.”
“Uh-huh.”
Okay, that’s not exactly true. “I… he… It’s really none of your business.”
“Okay, Grandma.” She holds up her mug to toast. “To your… prudishness.”
“I hate you.”
“I love you too.” She smiles. “It’s nice, being the adventurous one for once.”
“We’re very… I thought we agreed this is TMI?”
She laughs. “The details, sure, but… it just has to be said, Evie. It’s clear you’re thinking about fucking him right now.”
“Maybe. I just… I don’t want you to think he’s…” Oh my God, why do I care if my sister thinks Ian is a selfish or generous lover? “I am satisfied.”
“I hate to pull this card, but I know what a satisfied woman looks like.”
“You fuck one woman and you’re an expert?”
She sits back, surprised. Speaks softly, “I’ve been with other women.”
Oh. “Who?”
“A few.” This time, her expression gets shy. “I thought you knew? There was a girl at the hospital… and two this year. I just… I didn’t like it, when we moved fast. So I wanted to move slow with Marisol.”
“That’s sweet.”
“I like her so much.”
“She is really smart.”
She lets out a dreamy sigh. Takes a long sip. Catches herself drifting into fantasies. “Uh-huh. We’re talking about you and Mr. Moneybags.”
“Mr. Moneybags?”
“Yeah, I have something called Google. And it’s got a lot of zeroes after his net worth. I showed Marisol his picture and she… I got really jealous, actually. She’s never gone that gaga over me.”
“She’s really into you.”
“Maybe. But the way he looked at you… I’ve never seen that before.”
My cheeks flush.
“You did have sex? At his apartment.”
“Not exactly.”
She raises a brow. “You realize who you’re talking to?”
“Yeah. We uh… yeah.”
“It has been an entire day.”
“It feels like a million years.” I bite my lip. “I want to go over there right now. And just… touch him. You know? I want my skin against his skin. However, I can get it.”
She nods I know. “Why don’t you tell him that?”
“I… I left the ball in his court.”
“Trust me, Evie, he wants his skin on your skin too… why does that sound like something a serial killer would say?”
It does. It’s easy to laugh. Easier than facing how much I want him. “I just want to touch him. And feel him touch me.”
“You really like him, huh? In a forever kind of way?”
Maybe. I don’t know. It doesn’t matter. We have terms. I understand them. “It’s not serious.”
“Why not?”
I’m not explaining that. I don’t want to think about it. It’s so ridiculous. How can I want him this badly? It’s like he owns my mind. I only want to think of him. “It’s not what he wants.”
“How do you know?”
“He was clear when this started.”
“Well… maybe his feelings have changed. Or maybe they will. Or maybe… you only get this. And it’s like Casablanca. And don’t tell me that you can’t stand that there are no strong female characters in Casablanca. That’s true but beside the point.”
“Since when do you like Casablanca?”
“Since always. It’s romantic! The point is… it’s better to have loved and lost. Which would you regret more? Going for it? Or not going for it?”
“Not having these breakfast conversations with you.” I strain my tea. Add almond milk and a little honey. Tap my glass against hers.
“That’s very sweet. But also beside the point.”
Maybe.
“You always go for it. That’s what I admire about you.” She brushes a blond strand behind her ear. “One of the many things.”
“But the only one that serves your point?”
“Maybe.”
“Totally.”
“Okay. Hold on to your heart if you want. I get that. But go.” She motions to the check sitting on the table. “Go get laid.”
“Oh my God.”
“Trust me. If you don’t… you’re going to regret it.”
“He might be busy.”
“I said go. Not give me excuses.” She motions to my purse. “Get your cell. Then go.”
“What if I want to invite him to our place?”
She laughs. “It’s way too hot. But sure. I have to do some summer reading anyway. Go. I’ll be out for a while. Text me when it’s safe to return.”
“Oh my God.”
“I said go.” She pushes me gently. “Less talking. More whatever straight people do…”
“Okay.” I take a long sip of my mug. “Can I at least finish this?”
She shakes her head. “And you can’t get the check either.”
“Not even a takeout cup?”
“I said go. Now! Get your rocks off. That’s an order.”
Chapter Thirty-Six
Eve
It’s right there. My cell, lying on my desk, next to my notebook and my closed laptop.
Flashing with a text from Ian.
Ian: I thought of you.
Short, simple, incredibly suggestive.
Of course, he doesn’t say I came so hard when I thought of you or I fucked myself as I thought of you.
He’s waiting for me to ask.
Trying to make me earn what he’ll give.
I don’t care that the room is stuffy—even after I open the window. I still want him here. Want him undressing me.