Tears sting my eyes. “It’s not easy to say no to him.”
“Meaning what? He raped you?” Her voice is suddenly hard.
I look at her sharply, finding a deadly expression on her face. “No. Definitely not.”
She exhales, the tension in her shoulders relaxing by a degree. “Good. For a minute, I thought I was going to have to find a way to kill him and that’s apparently not very easy to do.”
I smile. “Rachel,” I say, shaking my head.
“So tell me the truth. I know you’ve had a thing for him forever.”
“What?” I ask.
“Always asked more questions about him than any of the others.”
“He’s gorgeous, and he’s the leader. Of course I noticed him back then,” I say.
“Gorgeous? He’s all right,” she says, like it pains her to admit it.
“He’s gorgeous,” I say emphatically. “And he has a way of looking at me—like he’s hanging on my every word. No one’s ever listened to me like that before.”
“I have.”
“I meant, no guy.” I lean forward suddenly and hug her. We’ve been friends forever. We have been each other’s sister through the toughest times imaginable. I will not lose her over this, or anything. “I love you. Rach. We’ll find a way to hang out, no matter what happens.”
“Okay,” she says, but I can tell she’s skeptical. Rachel hasn’t had much control over her life, so I don’t blame her for thinking she might lose me. She lost her own mom. She swigs the last of the G and T and sets the glass on the coffee table. “So you’re what—dating him? With his insane reputation with women?”
“I guess? It’s hard to tell. He doesn’t exactly do the usual things.”
“Meaning?” she asks, and this time her tone is just curious.
“Meaning he doesn’t say what he’s thinking with regard to this thing between us. I just know that I’ll see him again.”
“What’s he like in bed?” she asks, a little challenge in her voice.
I’ve been with four guys. Rachel’s been with none. Unless you count the blowjobs she’s been regularly giving her fiancé at his insistence and with no reciprocation.
“He’s good,” I say, my face flaming.
She smiles and then laughs softly. “He’s good? And how about his personality? Is it nice? And his house? Okay? His car? Fine?”
I laugh. “For fuck’s sake.”
“I think I’ll share that rating. Zoe says Connor McCann’s an all right lay. Passable. Nothing special.”
“Bitch,” I whisper and then we’re both laughing again.
She goes to the kitchen and makes herself another hefty drink. She’s five-foot-three and weighs about as much as a feather pillow. She’s going to be trashed if she drinks another G and T like the first.
“Rachel, go easy, babe,” I say gently.
She shakes her head. “I’m getting drunk, so I can stand it.”
I look at her, tears stinging my eyes again. “We’ll figure it out.”
“How?” she asks, tears in her own eyes as she sits cross-legged on the sofa facing me. “The way we figured out how I could avoid living with Frank once he decided that’s what I was going to do? The way we figured out how I could avoid getting engaged to a guy I don’t particularly like? The one that I’m currently engaged to.”
“So we’ll leave. I’ve said it before. Let’s leave. Screw all of this.”
