“How long is forever ago?” I lean forward, resting my forearms on my thighs.
“High school.” She laughs. “Is it love if you’re not even eighteen-years-old?”
I watch her face as I answer. “I think it’s love if your heart says it is.”
“Mine did.” She bows her head. “I thought he would be my forever, but it didn’t work out.”
I’ve never felt that with a woman.
“I saw him when I was in San Francisco.” She glances over at me. “He dropped by my sister’s house when we were having birthday cake.”
“You invited him?”
My question surprises her. I see it in the slight perk of her brows. “Frannie’s husband, Grant, did. They’re friends.”
“What’s his name?” My throat tightens. None of this is my fucking business, but I can’t help myself. I crave the knowledge of who this guy is.
She glances at the window and the lights of the city beyond. “Boyd.”
Boyd. I hate the name now.
“What was it like seeing Boyd?” His name snaps off my tongue.
“Strange.” She frowns. “I hadn’t seen him since Frannie’s wedding.”
Good.I remember Julian telling me that Frannie has been married for years.
“We talked briefly at the birthday party.” She looks down at her fingernails. “It was mostly about his job, my job, the weather here versus there. It was just a lot of random shit.”
I laugh. “Sounds exciting.”
Her lips curl into a smile. “It was boring and it made me wonder what I saw in him all those years ago. There wasn’t a spark there anymore.”
I feel my body relax. “So Boyd is a bore?”
She catches the corner of her bottom lip with her teeth. “A big bore. He’s not my type at all anymore.”
I ask because it’s right there, dangling like a hook in front of me. “What’s your type, Matilda?”
She starts to blush, her hand jumping to her chest. “What’s your type?” she counters just as her phone starts ringing next to her.
I toss my head back into the sofa and close my eyes.
Fuck. Just fuck.
“It’s Frannie,” she says softly. “She wants to video chat. I’ll take it in my room.”
I don’t respond because I was about to tell her that she’s my type and then her damn phone rang. Matilda Baker is exactly the type of woman I want in my bed.
She’s the only woman I want in my bed.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Tilly
“Why the frown, you clown?”Frannie laughs at her joke.
I shake my head at the camera on my phone. “That’s about as funny now as it was when you first said it. We were eight-years-old then, Fran.”
