“False?” I guessed.
He squeezed the chicken, making itbok-BOKloudly in my ear. “True. With a caveat. They’relong distancebest friends, which means they share more with each other than regular in-person friends. There is no TMI with them. Your sex life will be discussed at length. Are you okay with that?”
“Considering Willow and I aren’t having sex, I’d say yeah. I’m fine with that.”
Jack chuckled. “Just because you’re not having sex doesn’t mean it’s not being discussed.”
Wait . . . Did he know something I didn’t know? Did Willow want to have sex? She had made it pretty clear from the start that she wanted nothing to do with me and was just tolerating our proximity to undo her snafu. Even though we had only been “together” for a month, I had been taking things slow. I didn’t want to complicate things with sex if it was going to end in two months.
But I also didn’t want it to end in two months.
“Has Wander said something to you about Willow?—”
The chicken came out of nowhere, smacking my cheek with a wheeze. “Rule number 52 of being a friend group husband. Spousal privilege is a thing.”
“That wasn’t a question,” I said as my skin stung. “And I’m not her spouse.”Yet.
Jack’s hand landed on my shoulder. “It means the girls get together and shit talk, then come home and tell us all the gossip. But it stays between you and your partner. You get to know, but you don’t get to shit talk about it with others. Even us.”
Miles stood and started pacing in front of my chair. “Last question. Your girl is mad at you and you don’t know why. Option one: do you ask her what you did wrong and apologize? Option two: ask me and the hunky firefighter what our ladies are saying. Or option three: diffuse the tension with a date night and flowers, and address it later?”
“The answer is tacos, isn’t it?”
Miles smacked me in the face with the chicken as it let out one last dying bok-BOK. “Wrong. The answer is tacosandmargaritas.”
18
AUTUMN
BOOK BOYFRIENDS DON’T EXIST
“You didn’t have to do all this,” I said as I peeked over Ryan’s shoulder at the skillet full of pancakes. “I do actually know how to cook.”
“So do I,” Ryan countered as he shimmied the spatula under one of the pancakes, then gave it a little flip and a pat for looking so good.
I rested my chin on his shoulder. “I know that. You don’t have to prove to me that you can cook.”
“I’m not proving anything,” Ryan said as he tilted his head back and kissed my temple. “I just like cooking for you.”
It was the “for you” that had my hackles raised. I wouldn’t have questioned it if he had simply left the statement at “I like cooking.” Lots of people liked cooking, and he was clearly confident in the kitchen. But it was a subtle reminder that this wasn’t the real Ryan. He was just playing the game. Putting on a good show.
“Regardless. Thank you,” I said as I backed off and went back to tidying the living room. Whitney and Wander were leaving Kansas today. A goodbye brunch felt like the leastI could do after they dropped everything to be here for the funeral.
It felt good to have them around for a few days. Their questions about what was happening with Ryan helped bring me back to reality.
This was a game. A game that he wasreallygood at playing.
But no matter how many moves he made, I held all the power at the end.
I wouldn’t fall in love with him after three months, and my “no” would be the checkmate to end all checkmates.
“When are they getting here?” Ryan asked.
I glanced at the clock. “Should be anytime now. I said ten.”
“Are Miles and Jack coming?” he asked.
I snickered under my breath. “One casual kidnapping and you’re jumpy all of a sudden.”
