She raises a brow. “Things not going well?”
I smile. Mischa is an amazing friend, but she’s very nosy. Always has been. She won’t be able to rest until I’ve spilled the whole cup of tea. My slice pops up and I slather on butter and jam, and prepare myself to tell her the whole story.
About an hour later, we’re still talking about Noah. I’ve told her all about our relationship, every detail save for the more kinky bits. And I’ve also confessed how there’s always a nagging feeling at the pit of my stomach.
“Well, you know my history,” she says. “If you have a nagging feeling, it usually means there’s something there. I mean, just look at me and Brian this past year. I had a feeling something was up, and I was right.”
I nod, staring down at my cup of tea. Maybe Mischa is not the best person to talk in this type of situation. She tends to be high strung and paranoid. Perhaps I’m just imagining things, but she’s convincing me I’m not. I don’t know what to think. I just can’t reconcile sweet Noah with something sinister. What could he possibly have to hide?
“The way he completely freaked out when you were rummaging through his desk,” she goes on. “That’s not normal. I get the whole privacy thing but—”
“Yeah… it was weird.”
“I would do my due diligence if I were you,” she suggests. “You can never be too safe.”
“Really?” I say. “What do you mean?”
She crosses a leg over the other. “Maybe hire a private investigator. It will probably cost you, but it could be worth it.”
My eyes grow wide. “Really?”
“Noah could be a gold digger or a drug dealer or something.”
I can’t wrap her words around my head. There’s no way. I get defensive. “Well, for one thing, Noah does okay. He’s got his own money… probably more than I do. I can tell by his apartment, and the clothes he wears—”
“Sorry, I didn’t mean—”
“It’s okay…” I say, but I’m still offended. What Noah and I have is real, and that she would imply that it isn’t grates my nerves.
“He leases the place, doesn’t he?”
“Yes, he’s in for six months,” I reply, wondering where she’s going with this.
“People can make themselves seem a lot more well-off than they really are,” she points out. “Trust me… as an accountant, I see it all. Maxed out credit cards and crazy mortgages… bankruptcies and audits.”
I shake my head. “So that’s it… he’s a gold-digging bastard,” I scoff. “Everything we’ve shared was a big fat lie.”
She sits up straighter. She doesn’t reach out to me because that’s just not her style. “I’m so sorry, Abby. I didn’t mean… Forget everything I said. You know me… I’m cynical. I’m paranoid as hell. Forget this whole conversation.”
We both break into laughter, and she quickly changes the subject. She tells me all about her crazy life. Apparently her youngest son, Tristan, has a new girlfriend, and he’s always closing his bedroom door when he’s with her. Of course it drives Mischa crazy. She feels like a stiff prudish mom, but she can’t help opening the door every time he closes it.
I lean back and laugh at her anecdotes, but at the back of my mind, Noah sits comfortably, not going anywhere.
Could she possibly be right about him?
* * *
Once Gavinand I got started, we couldn’t stop. I discovered that I not only loved Gavin, I loved sex too. The first time had been romantic but a little painful. I’d been scared. The second time around, I was no longer afraid. And the third time… fireworks. I discovered girl-on-top, and Gavin discovered my G spot, resulting in my first intercourse orgasm.
After that, I couldn’t get enough.
Months later, I was still wild about it.
“Come back here, you little spitfire,” he called out to me.
I jerked my head around to sneak one last look at him, looking so sexy in the rumpled sheets. I reluctantly slipped on my panties, and worked on the clasp of my bra. “I gotta get to work.” It was suppertime, and we hadn’t eaten. We’d practically been sustaining on love.
He bounced out of the bed, and slipped on his boxers. “Let me fry you an egg before you go.”
