“Owning it.”
“This is supposed to be fun.” Elena shot me a look that telegraphed her displeasure at my impatience. In my defense, shopping for house things was her wheelhouse, not mine. “And Alex is right, sometimes you need to hold things in your hands to see if theywill bring you joy.”
“Don’t go all Marie Kondo on me. Meredith and Kindra are bridesmaids too.” I muttered the last part under my breath. I hated this kind of shopping, but I loved Alex. I didn’t want to diminish her fun.
“Don’t be a brat,” Elena chided. “You know Meredith would love to be here if she didn’t have that huge wedding in the Quarter this weekend. Kindra has weekly clients she can’t reschedule.” She said the last with the kind of reverence that implied people might die.
For all I knew, she might be right. When I went to see my therapist, things had usually gotten pretty dire. There was no reason to think things would be different for Kindra’s patients.
I wanted to point out that I had clients who depended on me too, but if I was being honest with myself, I’d been too distracted to get much done. Ever since Ford had given me a handful of orgasms and exactly the kind of good-bye I’d asked for—Tonight was my pleasure, cher. I’m happy to do it again any time—I found my mind revisiting thoughts of the sexy bartender with the magic hands over and over again. It had gotten bad enough I’d caught myself rolling my eyes at my own thoughts. I had no patience for an undisciplined mind—my own included.
“What about this one?” Alex held up a bone china plate with a thin black border. “It’s pretty, right?” She ran a finger almost lovingly around the rim.
“It is. Modern but timeless too.” I didn’t know anything about china, but I could tell Alex loved it. That was the only thing that mattered to me.
Elena took the plate from Alex, looking it over with a critical eye. “It’s perfect, and,” she said, glancing at the thick white cardstock description next to the table setting, “it has all the serving pieces you’ll need to entertain when Erik has client dinners.”
For the first time, Alex looked a little uncomfortable, her unease palpable. She came from a modest background and aside from the fact that she was legit gorgeous, she was as far from a trophy wife as you could get. She knew her way around a spanking bench, could easily navigate the power play dynamics between a man and woman, and teach a masters class on it while she was at it. She had skills, but the kind of entertaining prowess expected of the wife of a partner at one of the most prestigious law firms in the city wasn’t something she had any experience with. I knew from firsthand experience how judgmental that crowd could be. I’d be damned if I’d let my friend feel any less spectacular than she was.
“You can hire out anything you need to. Those kind of problems were made to throw money at. You’ve got books to write.”
She met my gaze and nodded.
Seeing my normally self-confident friend doubt herself made me almost irrationally ragey. I knew my opinions were colored by my job. I didn’t see the good marriages—the men who partnered equally with their spouses. My data points were admittedly skewed, but not so much that I doubted men didn’t have to fucking deal with this.
We’d taken the provider thing off their shoulders and helped carry it. Not enough of them took the same approach to the work needed to create a home. I saw evidence of it every day in my office. Not that I did much in my own house beyond paying the cleaning service and ordering in.
Ford cooked. He managed to make an exceptional omelet from things I didn’t even know I had in my kitchen. The cooking might be a player thing—an effective one—but the skill was real. I’d seen the care he took at the bar. I’d bet money his refrigerator held more than grapefruit seltzer and that his pans actually saw use.
Just like that, I was thinking about the bartender again. There was something wrong with me.
I’d never obsessed over a hookup before. I’d also never had that many orgasms or a mid-fuck snack with a hookup. It was easier for me to believe that was the reason my thoughts kept drifting back to Ford, and not because something about him made me want to know more.
“China pattern sorted.” Elena scanned the card with the device the salesclerk had given her when we arrived.
With the amount of business Elena brought their way, they were more than happy to let us have the run of the store, answering the occasional question and keeping us in prosecco, bless them. I took one of the slender flutes the unobtrusive salesclerk offered me, grateful for the diversion.
“Let’s look at table linens,” said Elena, snagging her own flute.
Alex got a bit of the deer-in-the-headlights look again. I stepped close enough to bump her gently with my shoulder, grateful to have something useful to do.
“Don’t think about them for dinner parties. Think about Erik spreading you out on top of the dining table so he can feast on you. That’s what he’s going to care about.”
I didn’t have to lie. Loving my friend was a thousand times more important to Erik than any idea he had about what a wife should be like. He worshiped her and supported her work with the same kind of dedication that made him a powerhouse attorney. Seeing the way he loved her—in a way that helped her be stronger instead of less than—was the only reason I could get behind any of this marriage stuff. That, and that Alex loved him fearlessly and hadn’t shown any sign of losing herself in it. I hadn’t been entirely sure that was even possible. Hazard of my job.
“That makes it much easier to choose.” Her lips curved in a wicked smile.
“Honestly.” It was Elena’s turn to roll her eyes. “You two are hopeless.”
“What?” I said, feigning innocence. “You’ve never had a client request table linens suitable for fucking on?”
“You wouldn’t believe some of the requests I’ve gotten,” she said, shaking her head with a smile. “But no, this is a first.”
“We’re a challenge.” I grinned and linked my arm with Alex’s, pulling her over to the display of seven hundred thousand thread count linens made of organic cotton harvested by virgins or some other ridiculous selling point they used to increase the price.
“I think I liked it better when you weren’t actively helping with the shopping.” Elena shot me a look, and I blew her a kiss.
Aside from the fact that I loved her like family, I couldn’t afford to make her mad or I’d have to do my own shopping in the future. That would be a disaster.
