“Mmm,” she says, taking a sip of her tea.
“I can cook, if you prefer, but it could be fun to go out.”
“Sounds great. I just need to table any food talk for the moment.”
“Christ.” I bang my forehead into the top of the sofa. “Of course.”
She continues to drink her tea. At least I did one thing right.
“So, blogging?” I ask. “It didn’t work out for you?”
A small cough escapes her throat.
“You okay?” I ask, smoothing some hair from her cheek behind her ear.
“It’s okay. I’m good. Yeah, it didn’t work.”
“You never said.”
Her brow furrows, and I apologize for putting her on the defense.
“No, no, it’s just yours is so successful,” she says.
“Well, I still would love to hear about yours. You know, it’s only been a short while with us, but I think when you survive the combined stomach bug with someone, it’s like six months in relationship time.”
She laughs, and I mean it. We’ve only been getting to know each other for a short while, and maybe it’s because I don’t have a lot of family around, but I’m a fixture in her world now. Why does it matter? I feel compelled to tell her the truth.
“I want to be honest; I’ve been consulting with a female on my blog. It doesn’t mean anything. I don’t know anything more than her name is Andrea.”
Poor Andi coughs again.
“Why don’t I get you some water?”
“I’ll get it.” She rushes to the kitchen and comes back guzzling a large ice water.
Watching her throat move as she swallows, I’m strangely turned on. “Slow down, cowgirl,” I tell her, and then I turn serious again. “I wish you would’ve told me. I don’t want there to be secrets. That’s why I’m being transparent about Andrea. She’s helping me identify where I want to go with the blog. She’s some big web expert, but blogs anonymously.”
All Andi does is nod.
“Is that okay?”
“Of course,” she mumbles, but I wonder if she’s hurt. Maybe it’s because she’s still not feeling one hundred percent?
I’m thinking I’m right when she sits up straight and says resolutely, “Totally okay.”
“Good.” I take her hand. “Now, tell me about yours. Your blog.”
She rolls her eyes. “It’s stupid.”
“Nothing’s stupid when it comes to you.” Our fingers intertwine, and I run my thumb along hers.
“I had one of those mom blogs, peddling cute baby pictures for free diapers, but I wanted to be one of the bigwigs. I kept trying to improve my numbers, increase my page views, write better content, but it didn’t happen for me.”
Waiting for her to continue, I don’t interrupt.
“I decided to go to one of those blogging conferences to learn from the ‘best.’” She puts the last part in air quotes, separating our hands. When she deliberately twines her hand back with mine, I feel like King Kong. Christ, is that a thing?
Luckily for me, Andi interrupts my self-doubt.
