I clear my throat. ‘It’s a her, actually.’
His guffaw nearly deafens me. ‘Course it is.’
‘She’s different…’ I clear my throat. ‘She’s special to me.’
‘Special as in you’re together?’ His tone is filled with wonder. It’s not surprising. I’ve never had a serious girlfriend before. I’ve never found anyone special enough to want to settle with, not until Savannah, anyway.
‘Special as in I’d like to be, but it’s complicated. You’ll understand when you meet her.’ I pause. ‘And one more thing, Jake, please be discreet, okay? I don’t want to scare her off, or to make this into something it isn’t.’
‘Oh shit,’ his voice drops to a whisper. ‘She’s not married, is she?’
‘No! What do you take me for? She’s currently not in line for dating, but I’m working on it.’ Starting by dropping the “I just want to fuck you bullshit.”
The truth is, I don’t want to just fuck her. I want to fuck her forever.
And maybe it’s time I told her that.
‘I’m intrigued,’ Jake muses. ‘I’ll see you when you get here. Jessica’s brother is a plumber. I’ll give him a call now.’
I fist pump the air. ‘You are a legend, my friend.’
‘I’ll see if I can get it sorted. If this girl is as special as you say she is, you might want to score some brownie points.’
‘I owe you big time.’
‘You owe me nothing.’ Jake’s tone is sincere. ‘See you in a couple of hours. I’ve got news too. It’ll be great to tell you in person.’
‘News? Like a new job or something?’ I rub a thumb over the stubble dotting my jaw.
‘Something like that,’ he chuckles.
In the store, I fill the trolley with pizza, olives, and every other antipasti I can find.
The condoms I throw in are a prayer to the universe that I might get lucky enough to need them.
Chapter Twenty-One
SAVANNAH
It’s not a date.
It’s not a date.
It’s not a date.
So why am I lashing on extra mascara and another three squirts of Jo Malone perfume?
Because Savannah Kingsley, you know, you will never get a better excuse to be alone with Ronan “Ride Me” Rivers.
I slip out of the Gabriela Hearst number and pull on a casual denim dress. It has spaghetti straps and stops mid-thigh. It’s casual, but there’s no denying it’s cute. I stuff two more summer dresses into an oversized Mulberry handbag with a few cosmetics and with the sexiest lingerie I own, you know, just in case.
I’m sailing dangerously close to the wind, and I know it.
I want to have sex with Ronan Rivers.
I want it more than I’ve wanted anything in years.
I spend so much time running around after the girls, driving them to after-school activities, and then posting about it online so every mother in the country knows she isn’talone, but truthfully, it’s me who feels alone. And I’m sick of it.
