Or is this the two of us blowing off steam after the stress of dealing with our families’ reactions to us pretending we’re together?
“No,” she says as I finish telling her a story about accidentally crashing a black-tie formal in a seven-foot-tall bacon costume. “How did you not get the memo?”
“Just got back from a work trip to Hong Kong and I was looking at the wrong week on my calendar. Told Vanessa I’d meet her at the party, but when I got there, a week early for the venue, everyone else was in formal wear and I couldn’t find my girlfriend.”
Amanda cracks up. “What did you do?”
“Pretended I was a server, made a round with a tray of mini quiches, then ducked into the coat closet and called her.”
“Where were you supposed to be?”
“A black-tie formal for her boss’s wedding.”
“Did you go in your bacon costume?”
“Yep.”
“Were you mortified?”
“A bit.”
“Aww. How long after that did you break up?”
“Well over a year. That was before we moved in together.”
She dances her fingers over my shoulder blade, and I sigh and sink deeper into the mattress.
There are a few things in life better than getting a light back rub from a nearly naked woman who smells like sex, but only a few.
“It’s not exactly the same, but that reminds me of the time Yazmin and I spent a day trying on clothes that we picked out for each other to see who could create the most epically wrong looks for our personalities,” she says. “I walked out of a Bloomingdale’s dressing room in pastel polyester pants pulled up to my boobs and a sweater that hadWorld’s Best Grandmaknitted into it, and Yazmin laughed so hard we were asked to leave.”
“You probably still looked perfect.”
“I was ready to head to the accessories aisle and get some fake bifocals and a granny wig.”
I smile as my eyes drift closed.
That’s so easy to picture.
“When are tryouts for your show?” I ask her.
I don’t tell her I know it’shershow.
She doesn’t volunteer it.
“Next week.” She sighs. “Assuming I go back to New York.”
“Why wouldn’t you?”
“Because we still don’t have someone else to help my mom at the bakery.”
“Ever consider that that’s a problem for your mom and grandma to solve?”
“Not without a lot of guilt.”
I kiss her knee. “You should go home to New York and see what they come up with. Do your play. Have fun. Let them sweat for a while.”
“Can I tell you a secret?”
