Heather pressed her lips together, as if she was trying not to laugh. “You didn’t.”
“Oh, I did. I yelled at him. About my vagina. In a hotel lobby.”
Heather giggled. “Oh, youdidn’t.”
“Of course I did, have you met me? It was classic Carly. But yeah, Nick knows.” She thought about that early morning in her apartment, when he’d come over with coffee and questions that Google couldn’t answer.I want whatever you can give me.Carly let out a shaky breath. “He surprised me. He’s been fine with it. More than fine, really. For a few weeks, at least.” Whether he’d start needing more from her and decide that she wasn’t enough for him, she had no idea. He probably would, but she’d never find out. Their time was almost up. Fun and done, just like Heather had said.
Heather squeezed her forearm again. “The other men might have surprised you, too. If you’d given them a chance.”
Carly sighed. “Who knows? Maybe I should have told them. And I definitely should have told you. I’m sorry I didn’t.”
Heather stood and came around the picnic table to sit next to Carly, who scooted down to make room for her. As her best friend put an arm over her shoulder and pulled her in for a one-armed hug, Carly breathed out a wobbly sigh. Telling the truth felt like cracking her toe knuckles: it hurt as she was doing it, but the instant relief left her wondering why she hadn’t done it sooner.
“I’m sorry you had to suffer alone all this time. And I hope the PT is helping and one day you can have all the intercourse you want. But even if it doesn’t,” Heather shifted to face her and put her hands on Carly’s shoulder, “you are enough. More than enough.”
“Right, I’m enough and also kind of a lot,” Carly sniffed.
“Yeah, like I said, you’re more than enough,” Heather smiled and hugged her tight.
“Intercourse is a weird word,” Carly said into Heather’s shoulder after a moment. Heather giggled again, and Carly squeezed her. She would miss this more than anything once she was back in New York.
Chapter 20
“So, are you going to tell me what the dress looks like?” Nick asked as Carly sat against the headboard, the sheets pulled up to cover her breasts. It was late, and he was planning to be up early to surf with Marcus, but the last thing he wanted to do was sleep.
“I can’t tell you, it’s a surprise,” Carly said in mock outrage. Her cheeks were still flushed and her ponytail was tangled and askew. She looked like someone who had just come, hard, which she was. He licked his lips. He could still taste her.
“It’s a surprise for the groom,” he corrected. “You have to tell me if she’s chosen something that makes her look like a walking pavlova so I can be ready to keep a straight face when I see her coming down the beach at us.”
“Heather has impeccable taste in dresses and dessert, and the good sense not to confuse the two. I promise you, the dress is elegant and beautiful, just like she is. And you’re polite enough to keep a straight face even if it isn’t.”
“That’s true,” he mused, scooting towards her on the bed. “But what about your dress? What am I going to do when I see you coming down the aisle in that strappy teal thing? I’m pretty sure I saw averyhigh slit up one side.” With one hand, he pulled her to him, then ran the other hand up her bare thigh, tracing the muscle under the silky skin, feeling soft hairs beneath his fingertips. She sighed, then looked up into his face and gave him a wicked grin.
“Easy, just imagineI’ma walking pavlova.”
He laughed and kissed her, wishing they could stay up all night bantering and fooling around. But tomorrow was a big day: after he was done at the beach, they had their interview with theMorning Sun. His stomach fluttered with nerves as he thought about it. So far, their plan was working. He needed it to keep working until it translated into something more than online followers. He needed those followers to turn into job offers or freelance gigs, and soon. In less than a week, Marcus and Heather would be married, his hotel reservation would end, and he’d have to figure out where to go next and what to do once he got there.
“What’s up?” Carly asked, and he realized his shoulders had stiffened under her hands.
“Nothing,” he lied, willing his muscles to relax. “Just thinking about tomorrow. We should get some rest.”
“But I’m not sleepy,” Carly protested, running her hands down his back to squeeze his ass. “I’m horny.”
He chuckled. “One of Snow White’s lesser-known dwarves.”
“Exactly. Strange that Disney didn’t include him.” One of her hands snaked around and stroked the front of his pants, and his cock responded immediately, like it always did with her.
“Fuck,” he breathed, and she gave him a wry smile.
“I can’t, as you know. But there are other things I can do, and I’m very good at them, as you also know. When you have a broken vagina, you get very good at blow jobs, and you give a whole lot of them. Which in turn only makes you better at them. Practice, perfect, et cetera.”
“I’m well aware of how good you are.” He smiled dutifully. She joked like this sometimes, making light of her condition and the way she’d coped with it over the years, and though he was glad she could joke about it, he couldn’t muster any amusement. The idea of Carly hurting, of her being with men who were content to let her hurt right in front of them, wasn’t funny to him at all. He liked penetrative sex, obviously, but he couldn’t imagine wanting it enough to hurt someone to get it, or being so oblivious during it that he wouldn’t notice that his partner was in pain. Carly was a good actress, but she wasn’t that good. He took hold of her wrist and stopped her hand.
“You can practice on me another time, Horny, I promise,” he said, kissing her forehead. “But we should really get some rest.”
A few short hours later, he and Marcus had rinsed and dried their boards and stopped by the surf club kiosk for a coffee, and he returned to his room to find Carly still dozing in his bed. She stirred as he entered and looked up as he set an iced coffee down on the bedside table next to her.
“Room service for madame,” he said.
