Chapter Twenty-seven
Elizabeth
“Let us not burden our remembrance with a heavinesss that’s gone.”
The Tempest
I sat on Chelsea’s bed, sipping on a mug of hot cocoa, while she went through her closet like a sales rack until she landed on something. Holding up the miniskirt, she said, “Is it too cold out for this?”
It was officially sweater weather, but I said, “Are you planning on going back out tonight?”
“Not tonight,” she said, tossing the skirt on the bed and returning to the closet for a top.
The Netflix and chill date Bas had negotiated would knock another item off her list:Watch 15 movies.I couldn’t believe she hadn’t checked that one off already. Clearly Chelsea wasn’t above using the pretext to her advantage. It was strange seeing her give a damn about a guy.
“You should bring a change of clothes,” I said.
“No way. I don’t want him to assume I’m going to spend the night.”
“You’re totally going to spend the night,” I objected. “I don’t understand why you play these games.”
“It’s not a game.” She held up a minxy little V-neck and tossed it over the miniskirt. “Do I want to get some action tonight? Of course. But I don’t want him to take that for granted.”
Maybe I should be stealing a page out of her book, playing hard to get to keep Evan interested, but it seemed like too much effort, and besides, what if it backfired and made him back off too? We’d worked too hard to get to a place of honesty.
“Where have you hidden Chelsea’s body.”
She laughed. “Listen. This is not serious.”
“But you like him,” I pushed, gently. I didn’t want her to throw her defenses back up, but I wanted her to realize she was making solid progress.
“I am enjoying him.”
“That sounds an awful lot like you’re using him,” I chided. We’d been over this a million times. “I wish you’d give him a chance.”
“In my own way, I am,” she said.
I sighed, then switched to her favorite topic. “So we need to decide where we’re going in January. What about Ibiza?”
“Oh, inspired,” she said. “Have you managed to add points this week?”
“Maybe. Evan and I were invited to a party tonight. Does that count?”
She scrunched her face, thinking. “Will allow.”
Of course she would—if it bought us a week on the Mediterranean.
I left her to primp. I had my own date to get ready for, but unlike Chelsea, I wouldn’t be trying out sexy date night clothes. She thought she just wanted to get laid, while I wanted someone I could be myself with, sex or no sex. Comfortable. Cozy. Permanent.
Clad in brushed cotton blue jeans, a chunky cable-knit sweater, and my knee-high boots, I sat on my porch, waiting for Evan to arrive. I was eager to meet some of the people he’d grown up with. Every bit of information was a puzzle piece. A picture was forming, and though there’d been some jagged edges, I liked what I saw.
He came walking up the sidewalk, carrying a six-pack of Stella. I met him halfway, flashing the bottle of wine I’d bought for the occasion.
“We’re walking?” It wasn’t that far, but the temperatures had dropped.
He leaned in for a quick kiss. “I didn’t know how much alcohol would be involved tonight. Do you want to drive over?”
I thought about it. We might need an Uber later, and I didn’t want to abandon my car blocks from my house. “No, we can walk. I’ll just steal your warmth.”
