“That’s the million-dollar question,” Angelina answered, passing plates to the two newcomers and opening the other pizza box. Green peppers and sausage wafted from the table, and my stomach let loose a very unsexy grumble of annoyance—and hunger.
“Um, babe? Do we need sign language or signal flares? Because this silence is freaking me out.” Rose snapped her fingers in front of me, and I shook my head, stomping my foot like an ignorant child.
“Miller kissed me. No, Miller made love to my freaking mouth. Gross. Wait. Miller and I made out. Fuck,” I groaned, scrubbing one hand over my face before folding the pizza slice and taking a huge bite, glad I had the foresight to take lactose medicine before the girls arrived. Real cheese always made in onto pizza. I’d still regret it at three in the morning when my stomach would revolt with indigestion and heartburn—but that was future Emma’s problem. Present Emma had more important things to deal with than a body that could not digest cheese.
“Um. I thought you guys have been messing around for a while,” Rose said.
“It’s been off and on for years, hasn’t it?” Marietta added. “I know one of us suggested you just ask him to help you out after Hopkirk’s weird request, but then you went and signed up for all those dating apps.”
“You two didn’t have some sort of Pretty Woman relationship where you wouldn’t let him kiss you on the mouth, right?”Angelina finished topping off my wine. She passed around bottles of water from the kitchen and motioned for me to move over to the other side of the couch.
“Yes. Yes. And no.” I sighed and slunk to the floor, pressing my back against the sofa. Rose sat cross-legged above me, with Marietta and Angelina crammed beside her. The pizza was pushed to the side because, after that one bite, my appetite was all but gone.
“We’ve kissed. We’ve always kissed. He’s super affectionate, which is great. He’s this big, cuddly man-child, all wrapped up with good intentions and a big dick.”
“You are killing me, Emma. What the hell is going on?”
“He showed up earlier while I was psyching myself up for another date, asking all these uncomfortable questions. He got mad, thinking I’d given my address to someone on the app. Then he slammed the door in my date’s face, only to ask me to ask him when he started looking at me differently, like I could be someone he could fall in love with. Then he kissed me. The sweetest, most passionate kiss of my life.”
I took a breath, grabbed a water, and pressed the cold bottle to the back of my neck. The cool condensation rolled down my back but did nothing to ease the violent, churning force of my mind.
Why?That pathetic, one-syllable word threatened to crumble my resolve. Why was this bothering me so much? I didn’t have some unrequited love for him buried deep. Why did it seem like all the oxygen had been sucked out of the room when he kissed me, like I wouldn’t be able to breathe fully until I saw him again? Until he took my lips in a searing kiss and shared his air with me.
“Then he left. He freaking left—like it was the normal thing to do after dropping that truth bomb on my lap. He kissed me until I couldn’t breathe. Ya’ll, I think I died.”
I buried my face in my hands, choking back a sob. Why were his two questions causing this panic-inducing meltdown,resulting in thousands of calories consumed and a wicked hangover?
The confession to the girls did nothing to quell the raging inferno of fire in my stomach. Perhaps I had heartburn from the amount of bread I’d consumed in the last twenty-four hours. I tugged on the end of my braids and stared at my full glass of wine, feeling nauseated. The last thing I needed was a fuzzy mind from consuming too much fermented fruit.
“Yep. That’s it. I died. Forget the date that showed up before Miller kissed me. Forget the self-induced misery I caused when we went to that Japanese restaurant off Faldo Boulevard. This is all a fever dream hallucination meant to teach me a lesson. What lesson, you ask? Hell if I know. Hell, maybe this is hell. But Dante never mentioned a circle where you were doomed to live out your days in a constant state of confusion and tummy troubles.”
I closed my eyes and leaned forward, knowing I was being dramatic. That didn’t stop the thoughts plaguing my brain.
Warm hands caressed my back, digging into the knots until my breathing slowed. I smiled, opened my eyes, and turned back to the couch, where three pairs of eyes looked at me. There was no pity or resentment, only caring and concern.
“He kissed me like his life depended on it, and now I think I’m addicted to him. How did this happen? I was supposed to meet a nice guy by the time the board had their annual gala, shmooze them, get offered a job, and live happily ever after with some nameless guy with good hair.”
Hearing the words out loud did nothing to ease the tension in my shoulders, and my heartrate increased as the three of them looked back and forth. They were having some silent, telepathic conversation that consisted of pursed lips, raised eyebrows, and slight nods.
“Why am I acting like some pathetic teenager with a high-school crush? Once you pass the tender age of twenty-five, your emotional maturity should prevent dramatics like this.”
An awkward giggle came from the couch, and I turned, staring at Marietta, who had her hand pressed over her mouth, but the laughter still escaped.
Rose broke the silence first, her lips curling up into a smirk that had mischief written all over it. “Well, that happened much quicker than I thought.”
“Not me,” said Angelina, finishing her piece of pizza and handing me the half-eaten slice that still looked as unappealing as it did ten minutes ago.
“I think they’re a little behind schedule. I didn’t think you’d make it past your first online date before realizing what nonsense it was. Though I didn’t think he’d crack first.” Marietta buffed her nails on her purple blouse and nodded.
“Oh, I knew he would. He’s the absolute epitome of thehe falls firsttrope.” Angelina murmured, knocking her elbow against my shoulder hard enough for me to lift my head and grab the slice of pizza.
“I don’t think my brain can take any more convoluted, not-to-the-point conversations. I know. I know. I’m the one who started it, but I’m suffering from wine exhaustion and am halfway to a carb-induced coma.”
“Sorry, Em. We were just wondering how long it would take you to realize things with Miller were more than you made them out to be. It’s written plain as day on your face whenever you say his name. How you’ve gone so long without seeing it, I’ll never know.” Rose propped her head on my shoulder, but I shrugged her off, turning around to glare instead.
“You don’t do casual, babe. You never have. Don’t you remember when you and Miller first started hooking up?”
“Yeah,” Marietta said, topping off all the wineglasses but mine. The tannins were busy reacting to the overabundance of peppers in my stomach, and more wine would make the problem worse. “You were all bent out of shape, wondering why you were so undatable. Actually, that is eerily similar to the situation we’re currently in.”
