I pick at bits of icing from a Danish and keep scrolling through my messages, looking for anything—a sign, amessage that just says “Hey” or “Call me”—anything that could be from my dad.
“Bethany is piiissed, girl!” Hannah rushes over to me. “I don’t know why she can’t just hurry up and go on maternity leave.” She grabs my arm. “She’s telling everyone you’re sleeping with McCarthy.”
“I think Truman really let the cat out of the bag on that one.”
Hannah’s eyes bug out, and she drags me into the bathroom and checks under the stalls. Someone tries to open the door, but Hannah kicks it shut.
“Closed for cleaning! Go to the one upstairs.” She turns to me. “What the fuck? You’re sleeping with McCarthy? Bethany was right? I just made a whole impassioned speech about how you’re dating guys online to cover your ass.”
I wince.
“I’m sorry, Hannah. I should have told you. It just—”
“Don’t apologize!” She shakes me. “Tell me everything. How was it? Is he huge? How many times did he make you come? What does his spunk taste like?”
“Eww. I shouldn’t have. He’s a…” I trail off, thinking about the little boy in the photo. I can’t stop a wistful sigh. “I thought he was a complete asshole, but he’s not. He’s, like, seventy five percent asshole.”
“Oh em gee! You’re in love with him—what part of ‘it’s closed’ did you not understand?” Hannah yells at whoever’s on the other side of the door.
“No, no,” I lie, “that’s not what this is.”
“Hey, bank account, penthouse, handsome face? Like, what’s not to love?”
“It’s not his bank account.” I start chewing on my nails then close my fingers into a fist. “It’s… He’s just so…him. And anyway, I didn’t tell him I’m in love with him, because I’m not, you know. And besides, he actually said that he’s obsessed with me. He’s so protective of me. I mean, it’s not like a duke in a romance movie. It’s more like a mangy alley cat protecting his territory, but it’s still, well, if you ignore the derisive comments, it is a little romantic. And he’s so cute with Truman,” I say, gushing.
Hannah collapses against the wall. “Did Jenna do it? Did she find true love?”
I can’t stop my smile. “I wouldn’t say that.”
“Sounds like he’s head over heels for you.” Hannah nods. “He just hasn’t said the L-word yet. You’re going to get married! You’re going to get engaged!Oh,” Hannah says on a breath, grabbing my ringless left hand. “I bet he gets you the best engagement ring.” She jumps up and down gleefully. “Your wedding’s going to be amazing! Aren’t you glad you listened to me and didn’t marry Nathan?” She hits my arm. “Lock him down; no fifteen-month engagement. Lock it down immediately.”
“It’ll have to be after my mom’s wedding.”
“Double wedding?” Hannah waggles her eyebrows. “In the buff?”
“Lord no.”
“Ring on it,” Hannah chants.
“You think? I’m not just being delusional? Because I feel delusional.”
“Because you’re so used to being mistreated that you can’t handle it when a man actually treats you like a woman instead of a sex doll-cleaning-ATM bot. You’re addicted to toxic men.”
I’m apprehensive. “McCarthy’s a little toxic.”
“It’s different when they have money and buy you muffins! That’s what set Bethany off in the first place,” she explains to my confused look.
On my desk is a paper sack from Starbucks. Inside is a ginormous chocolate muffin.
This is not better than a car. You have low standards. It’s embarrassing. -MS
Somehow, this is weirdly the most romantic thing a man has ever done for me. McCarthy’s right—I do need to raise my standards.
“Gimmie,” Hannah wheedles. “I need chocolate, and you’re about to get engaged. You can’t eat a whole muffin.”
“I mean, I can…”
“I deserve a bite. You’re going to get a bite of that firm ass tonight.”
