As I rock on top of his body, his expression changes to something shy, reserved. Like he thinks I’m made of crystal, and he’s afraid he might break me.
“Hey,” I say, angling forward and gripping his face, forcing eye contact. “It’s just me. Just Daisy.”
“Just Daisy.” He nods his head quickly. “Just my Daisy.”
My heart lurches. As one hand slides to my ass, his other hand pulls me toward him so I’m flush against his chest. I close my eyes as he sends me, once again, into the thrill of something explosive and sublime. The release runs like a roller coaster—a massive burst followed by more and more ripples of euphoria that send my body shaking, gripping around him, and calling his name. When he comes, he groans into my mouth, and I relish in more orgasm aftershocks of my own.
I hold him close and breathe in the warm, zesty scent on his skin, trying to make “just tonight” last just a little longer.
The next day, I vow to spend as little time in Gwen’s shop as possible. I’ll drop off the monthly supply of Mirage postcards for the local businesses table and scram. Maybe I’ll get lucky and she’ll have a swarm of customers, offering me an easy out. With a calming breath, I open the door to a mostly empty store.
Damn it.
“Hey you, I was hoping you’d be by soon.” Gwen bags whatever crystals and incense a sole customer has purchased at the checkout counter. “Whoa.” She looks at me with wide eyes. “You are practically levitating.”
“Just dropping off postcards.” I channel cool-girl energy. After all, last night was a onetime, no-big-deal arrangement. Never mind that I haven’t had a single productive thought in my head longer than twenty seconds before flashbacks of Max all over me,insideme, render me useless. At the front desk today, I answered a phone call with, “Yes, please.”
“Can’t you sense it?” She taps the person at the counter and points at me. The customer’s eyes dart back and forth, like he doesn’t quite understand what she means.
“I should head out,” I say, averting my gaze.
“Oh no you don’t.” Gwen clasps the man’s hands in hers and smiles. “Thank you for coming in. I hope these bring you the peace you’re looking for.” She ushers him out of the store to block me from sneaking out. The dainty chime on the door is cheerfully ominous. “Good news for The Mirage?” she asks, a glimmer of optimism in her voice.
I shake my head, almost ashamed that my orgasm high made me forget about everything with the hotel.
“Freddie’s tests came back negative?”
I busy myself with flyers to avoid eye contact, arranging a pink pyramid-shaped rock on top of the stack. “No, we don’t have an appointment for another couple months.”
“Thenwhat?” she squeaks. “You float in here like a goddess, your aura all shiny and bright, and you’re not gonna give me anything?”
If I share what happened, then the night seems more real, more serious—which it most definitely isn’t. I love Gwen to the stars and back, but she doesn’t need to know that Max Weber gave me multiple orgasms last night.
“I got a good night’s sleep. You must be picking up on my restedness.”
She says nothing and just lifts an eyebrow.
“Look, I should get going. Love you.” In a swift movement, I hug her and give her a peck on the cheek as I hurry out, and I pray she’ll let this go. I expect joking threats that I can’t avoid her forever, but instead, she wails a cry that stops me in my tracks.
“Gwen.” I scramble back to her side as her face contorts, tears spilling down her cheeks. “Ohmygod.”
“Hormones,” she blubbers. “The baby’s making me super emotional lately. But we’ve…” She hiccups through a thick sob. “You and I have barely seen each other, and I can tell something is going on, and you won’t share it with me, and there is so much about having a baby that Bob doesnotunderstand because of his stupid penis, and I know you’re busy, but I’m busy too, and I’ve got a literal human in me that craves fettuccine alfredo all the time, even for breakfast, and I miss you.”
“Aw, Gwen.” My heart cracks, and I embrace her as she leaks snot and tears onto my shoulder. These past few weeks, I’ve been so preoccupied that we’ve barely texted. My best friend is going through an enormous life change, and I almost walked in and out of here without even asking how she’s doing.
“I miss you too,” I say, rubbing her back in circular motions. “I’m sorry I upset you.”
She sniffles, pulls back, and grabs my hands. “You could make it up to me by telling me what’s up.”
“Are you legit using your pregnancy to blackmail me?”
“You’re going to deny a crying pregnant lady’s wishes?”
I might not believe in the mystical powers of gemstones and auras, but my best friend has a knack for knowing when the vibe is off. She’s bound to find out at some point.
“Fine,” I concede. “But Gwen, you…promise me you’ll stay calm. And you can’t talk about this with anyone.”
“Yes and yes. Girl Scout’s honor.”
