Setting my book on my chest, I rise up on my elbows and ask, “What are you working on again?”
Blake answers in a flat tone as she focuses on the canvas in front of her. “This is a commission for some rich dude who likes horses.” She pauses, tilting her head to the side and casting her eyes upward. “He lives somewhere out west, I think. I don’t know. The requests go through my agent.”
I flop back down on the chaise lounge and attempt for the millionth time to get lost in the words of Lo Gold, but there’s too much on my mind to concentrate on the story. Sighing, I give up and close the book, placing it in my purse.
“I smell guy troubles,” Blake says to me without breaking her eye contact with the equine figure she’s creating.
As I fake glare in her direction, I huff. “I’ll try not to take offense to that.”
“Am I wrong?”
“No,” I grumble as I cross my arms over my face.
I hear Blake move around, then walk over to me as I wallow. She grabs my hands, uncovering my face, and pulls me up to a sitting position. Moving my legs, I make room for her, and she takes my offered seat.
She reaches and grabs something from the floor. Sitting up, she hands me a personal-sized plastic bottle of chocolate milk.
“It would be better if I had tea, but I don’t, so this will have to do.” Blake opens her drink, then touches her bottle to mine. “Tell me everything.”
Starting from sex at Onyx and ending with my post-coital mental breakdown, I lay it all out for Blake, avoiding direct eye contact. If I look at her face for too long, I’ll assume I know what she’s thinking.
Which is unrealistic and ridiculous, but I can’t help myself.
But I can’t help myself. So, no eye contact is the way to go, especially since I want to give her the whole story so she can form a fully informed opinion.
When I’m finally done, I take a gulp of my chocolate milk and fiddle with the cap.
“So…” I trail off. “That’s it, I guess.” My eyes wander to Blake and find her gaping at me.
“Hold the phone for one fucking minute, ma’am!”
“What?”
“You can’t just drop all that and expect me not to be shocked. When you left with Rory last night, I figured I knew what y’all were doing, but for it to be confirmed…Ah!” Blake grabs my bottle and sets mine and hers on the floor. Then she wraps her arms around me.
“This isn’t what I was expecting.”
“Was I supposed to throw some holy water on you and pray for your virgin-less soul?”
“Well…”
“There’s nothing to be ashamed of here, honey. Sex is one of the most natural acts on earth. You chose it and you enjoyed it. Of course, I’m happy for you!” Blake jumps to her feet. “This calls for ice cream!” She scurries over to her mini fridge and freezer, where she keeps all the goodies.
My shoulders relax as Blake digs around for a couple of spoons in a cabinet.
I don’t know why I thought she’d scream and call for a priest. This is Blake, my number one supporter. She knows how hard I’ve worked to undo a lot of the hateful beliefs my father instilled in me.
Blake returns with a pint of Chunky Monkey ice cream, handing me a spoon. “Let me be perfectly clear. We aren’t celebrating the fact that you’re not a virgin anymore. We’re celebrating what it represents. Healing.”
Tears well up in my eyes, but I blink them away. “You’re the best.” Now I’m the one who initiates the hug, and Blake embraces me back.
“You’re struggling with something else,” Blake concludes.
My head tilts at an angle. “How do you always know?”
Blake gives me a smug smile. “It’s a gift. I just sense these things.”
Massaging one temple with my free hand, I confess, “I don’t know how to choose between them. There are three of them and one of me.”
