“See?” Wander said as she nudged me with her elbow.
“Not so fast,” Whitney said, pointing a finger at Wander. “Get off your high horse, Whitlock. Or do you want me to ask how many times you told Jack that what you guys had wasn’t anything serious, and that—no matter what—you were leaving at the end of your summer?”
Wander glowered. “Fine. But only if you want me to ask how many times you denied being in love with your bodyguard and that it was strictly professional?”
She lifted her hands in surrender. “Fine,” Whitney said. “We’re all guilty.”
I touched the tip of my nose. “Not all of us.”
“Notyet,” Wander said.
Whitney let out a deep breath and rested her hand on top of the small baby bump that had started to show. “We’re such clichés.”
“What I’m hearing is that we’re awesome,” Wander said. “Everyone loves a cliché.”
“Cheers to that,” I said as I tapped my mug against theirs. “We are awesome.”
“Ladies,” Ryan said as he came over from the couch where he, Miles, and Jack had convened. “Can I get you all anything?” He picked up the glass of water Whitney had almost finished. “Hang tight. I’ll get you some more.”
Whitney looked at me and lifted her eyebrows like she expected me to say something. Wander mirrored the look, telepathically communicating with me in a language I didn’t understand.
Ryan had dropped off Whitney’s refill, and I decided to break the tension between the boys and girls. “You three can come sit with us,” I said. “This isn’t a lunch room. Or we can come sit in the living room.”
“Respectfully, no,” Ryan said as he smoothed his hand across my back. “As much as I want you all to myself, you need time with your girls. I’ll be here when they fly out.”
And with that, he retreated to the couch.
Wander’s eyes went wide and a high-pitched squeal caught in her throat. “Girl!”
“What?” I hissed.
“Marry him and have lots of tattooed, pink-haired babies,” Whitney said. “He’s literally perfect for you.”
Wander nodded. “You know what feels romantic but is actually super toxic and dangerous? Your partner wanting you all to himself until you’re isolated from everyone you love. Youknow what supportive partners do? They recognize that you need other people and that sometimes that means it doesn’t include them.”
“Please tell me the sex is amazing,” Whitney said. “He seems like the ‘research until he gets it right’ type, and that issohot.”
Ryan did seem like the kind of man who would have committed himself to becoming an expert in the art and science of female pleasure, and I was more than happy to be his test subject.
“We’re not having sex,” I said, then stuffed a pancake into my mouth.
Forks clattered on the table.
“Take it back,” Wander gasped.
I shrugged and sipped my tea. “We’re not.”
Whitney took a deep, cleansing breath. And then another, and another. “Dear God, why not?”
“Because that will complicate things.”
“Then complicate them,” Wander snapped.
The food soured in my stomach. “This is just?—”
“If you say it’s just a game, or just a bet, or a challenge, or whatever you’re calling it, I’m going to flip this table,” Whitney said with complete seriousness.
“But it is. End of story.”
