That had made all the difference. He was incredibly thankful for their gift of compassion.
Ani seemed to shake herself out of her momentary stupor,then soaked the stained fabric in detergent. “Interesting. That’s…really unusual. In a good way. I mean, people don’t always—they’re not always—open, I guess.”
She scrunched her dress together, rubbing the soap all over.
“I got lucky,” he said. “A good group of people can change everything.”
Or one person. One incredible person.
She gave a tiny nod. “Yeah,” she whispered.
Ani turned on the cold water tap and watched it douse her dress.
She glanced at him. “You’re missing your party.”
Raffi stayed where he was, on the other side of the kitchen.Be cool, be cool.“They’re fine without me.”
After a moment, Ani lifted the dress and surveyed her work. The stain was almost gone, but the fabric still appeared discolored.
“It’s the synthetics. Harder to get stained, but once one seeps in, much harder to get out.” Ani sounded defeated, and Raffi felt really fucking bad for ruining her dress. He had done this, put that look on her face. He should figure out a way to—
“I should go,” she said.
Damn it, the moment was over. What kind of dish soap did they have in this place? Maybe it was too eco-friendly, wasn’t grease-cutting enough. And it had just blown his chances of getting closer to Ani.
“Sure, whatever you like,” he said, trying hard not to betray his disappointment over the fact that she wanted to leave.
“Can I?” She motioned down to the T-shirt.
“Of course, it’s yours.”
“I can find my way out,” she said at the kitchen door.
Aka “Don’t follow me to my car.” Okay, noted. He followed her just into the hall, since that was where he was headed, too.
“Drive safely,” he said, like an Armenian mom. Good God, his game was crushed.
But that got her to turn around and give him the tiniest smile. “Thanks,” she said. Then, “Pari kisher.”
He returned her “good night,” then reluctantly rejoined his party.
11
Ani
Ani stood inthe floral studio of Napa’s premier florist, Tilde, a place whose work she’d seen inBridesandMartha Stewartand evenArchitectural Digest. A place she never thought she’d be working with to create the floral concepts for her clients’ wedding.
She was surrounded by works of natural art in every corner of the bright space. The air smelled like lavender and fresh soil, and the soft hum of classical music played in the background. The celebratory aspect of the moment was only dampened by Kami, who was hanging all over Grace, sending complicated feelings to the pit of Ani’s stomach. But for some reason, Ani didn’t feel as horrible as she had at the bridal shop. Maybe she was starting to get over it? Or maybe she was simply numbing to Kami’s presence.
Or maybe it was that she couldn’t stop thinking about Raffi. Raffi, stepping close to her, saying in the most casual offhanded manner, “If I was touching you in a place like that, on purpose, believe me, you wouldknowit was on purpose.” How her body responded, so quickly, so intensely, to his words.How she wanted to step right up to him and dare him, “So do it.” She wanted to see what those hands could do, what that gorgeous mouth could do.
But that’s probably how it started with every woman and Raffi, wasn’t it? He’d whisper some such sexy thing, and boom, they’d fall into bed together and that was the end. Despite his unreal, Disney-prince level of handsome, and despite all the experience he’d supposedly had, she’d always assumed, before two nights ago, that he wasn’t all that good in bed. Not a generous lover, a taker, fast and selfish. But after what he’d said to her, the tingles it sent all over her flesh, she thought her assessment could have been wrong. Maybe he was incredible in bed.
But why was she pursuing this line of thought at all? She wanted a great love; she didn’t want a great fuck.
Well, she wanted that, too. But the love! The love was far more important. A necessary ingredient without which she was uninterested—mostly—in the sex.
“I’m Madison, nice to meet you.”
