I attempt to shake my head while also going for my margarita straw, which doesn’t work out how I want it to. “No kissing. Some subtle touches, and some even subtler eye fucking, but that’s all she wrote.”
“What is he waiting for?” Gemma raises her hand like one of her students, ready to order another drink.
Instead Harley hands off her as-yet-untouched second round. “More importantly, how are you feeling about everything?”
Bleh. It’d probably do me some good to talk about all this. In fact, I know it’d do me some good to talk about all this. But I also have no idea how to approach this conversation, even with my best friends. Alas, not knowing exactly what to say sure as hell never stopped me before. “I think I really like him. Like, not just in an I-want-to-bang-you way, but in an oh-shit-there’s-actually-some-feelings-in-there kindof way. He makes my stomach flip. And he gives me these little chest aches. And every time he does something nice for me—which is, like, all the fucking time—I just want to squeeze him.” I stab the ice in my drink with my straw. “Guys, I haven’t flirted with another guy since I moved into the brownstone. I didn’t even realize that until recently. And like, I don’t feel like I’m missing out on anything, you know?”
“You’re not, trust me on that.” Gemma holds out her fist and I give her a half-hearted bump. “So what’s his problem?”
I purse my lips, not wanting to divulge too many of Jack’s secrets without his permission. “I think he still hasn’t fully dealt with his parents’ deaths. And he’s been alone for a long time. Not just single alone. Like actually alone. I can’t imagine going through what he did without you guys there to support me.”
“You’ll never have to find out.” Harley pats my hand. “I imagine a lot of his hesitation comes from not wanting to end up alone again. You blew into his life, brought all of us with you, and he wants to make sure he’s ready so he doesn’t mess it up. I know it’s frustrating for you, but I think it’s actually a really smart way to go about things.”
“Yeah, I get it.” I break a chip into tiny pieces. “Not going to lie though, I definitely feel like the longer we wait, the more likely it is he’ll never want to take things to the next level.”
“Why would you say that?” Gemma has slowed down on her alcohol consumption and is now shoveling chips in her mouth, probably with the hope of soaking up some of the booze.
“I mean, you can only live with me for so long before growing to hate me.”
Harley and Gemma exchange a look, and Harley opens her mouth, I’m sure with the intention of saying something calm and measured.
“Why the fuck would you say that?” Gemma blurts out before Harley can even start her sentence.
I ignore the looks of horror on their faces, knowing they’re my friends and will try to placate me no matter how much they agree with the sentiment. “Come on, guys, you know me better than anyone, you know what an asshole I can be.”
“We do know you better than anyone, Sadie. You and I lived together for years and I’ve never come anywhere near hating you.” Harley crosses her arms over her chest, leaning back in her chair and studying me like she’s my therapist.
Whom I should probably make an appointment with. Since I started Bridge and Blooms and moved in with Jack, the feelings of inadequacy that always live in the back of my mind have been much more vocal.
“You’re my friends, so you have to say that.” I cross my own arms over my chest, giving her a pointed look.
“No, we don’t. And just for the record, I fully agree with the asshole part. In the most loving of ways, of course.” Gemma opens a new straw with the sole intention of shooting the wrapper at me. Which she does, the thin paper landing in my untouched glass of water.
“How did you get back here, Sadie? I thought you dealt with all of this dad stuff in college.” Harley was the one who originally encouraged me to visit the mental health clinic on campus, and I’ll forever be in her debt for that.
“Daddy issues never truly go away, do they?” It’s a bratty answer,but I’m in a bratty mood. This is the second time I’ve had this conversation lately, and that’s two times too many if you ask me, which no one has bothered to do.
“Ah, so now that you have the prospect of a new man, a good man, and a real relationship on the horizon, all the self-doubt is coming back?”
“I don’t need you to psychoanalyze me, Harley.”
“I think you kind of do, Sade. Because she’s totally right. Selfish people don’t offer to help their friends grade grammar quizzes.” Gemma reaches over and fishes the soggy paper out of my water glass.
“And selfish people don’t stay up late listening to their friends freak out about their new relationships.” Harley nudges my elbow with hers.
Damn them both for zeroing in on my trigger word without my even mentioning it. “Okay, so I’ve done two nice things recently. Big whoop.” Seriously, why can’t anyone just leave this alone? Why do I have to continue to have this discussion with people?
Gemma sways a little in her seat and I’m thinking she might be calling in sick tomorrow. “You do nice things for people all the time. Just shut up and accept it. Fuck, your whole career is doing nice things for people. Either bringing them flowers or serving them drinks. Nice things.”
“I don’t think it counts if I get paid for doing the nice things. But anyway, can we get back to the real topic at hand?” That’s how desperate I am to never have to hear about how nice I am again; I’ll willingly change the subject back to me and Jack. “I thought you both cared so much about how much I like Jack and how much he doesn’t want to kiss me.”
Gemma rolls her eyes. “He so wants to kiss you.”
“I think that has been well established at this point, Sadie. I think the real question is, will just a kiss be enough, for either of you?”
I know it won’t be for me. I don’t even have to think about it or consider Harley’s question. I want more than just a kiss from Jack. More than just a one- or two-night bang sesh. But saying it out loud is a totally different animal.
Gemma hands me her remaining margarita. “Drink this and then answer.”
