Page 86 of Sexting the Single Pakhan

“Yeah.” I take the bite, chew, swallow.

She feeds me another forkful, then leans back against my chest again. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah, nothing to worry about.” I wrap my arms tighter around her.

I press my mouth to the side of her neck. “How about shopping after breakfast?”

She turns her head and kisses the underside of my jaw. “I’d love that.”

I’d never let anything happen to her. But deep down, I can’t get what Igor said out of my head.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Laurel

The bass thumps through my chest like a second heartbeat, vibrating up my spine as Tasha and I move together in the crush of bodies on the dance floor. Tasha leans in close, mouth right against my ear so I can hear her over the music.

“I like the new Laurel!” she screams, grinning wide, eyes sparkling under the neon.

I laugh, loud, free, the sound swallowed by the drop of the next track, and throw my head back, letting my hips roll with the rhythm. My arms lift, hair swinging, body loose in a way it hasn’t been in years.

No early alarm tomorrow. With my schedule suddenly wide open, I can actually do this: go clubbing on a random Wednesday night. Tasha’s off work today, so we made a day of it: hours spent shopping using the card Leonid gave me, arms full of bags we didn’t need, long lunch with bottomless mimosas, laughter that made my stomach ache.

Now we’re here, drunk on music and freedom, winding our bodies low and slow, then popping back up, matching the DJ’s tempo like we’re the only two people in the room.

I still miss my kids though. God, I miss them. But I didn’t realize how tightly I’d been wound until now. I’m giving myself a little more time to breathe, to feel this lightness, before I start sending out applications again.

Tasha’s breathing hard now, chest rising and falling fast. She grabs my wrist, tugging me toward the bar. “Drinks! I’m thirsty!”

We weave through the crowd, elbows, hips, apologies shouted over shoulders, until we reach the sticky edge of the bar. It’s chaos: people waving cash, shouting orders, the poor bartender looking like he’s drowning. Tasha tries flagging him down, leaning halfway over the counter, but no luck. She turns back to me, fanning herself with one hand.

“Okay, while we wait, how are things with Leonid?”

I lean my elbows on the bar, still catching my breath. “Great actually.” A warm smile spreads across my face.

“I’m at his place most nights now. Since we don’t have to hide anymore…” I trail off, shaking my head. “I can finally breathe. I didn’t even realize I was holding my breath all this time. Now it’s just… us. Out in the open.”

Tasha grins. “And the internet?”

I groan, tipping my head back. “Still weird. People are dissecting every picture I post. Two days ago some blog did a whole thread analyzing the carats in that necklace I wore to dinner. I had no idea how many carats it even was! I just liked how it looked.”

She laughs. “Yeah, they’ll move on soon. They always do. Though you’ll get dragged back into the spotlight every now and then, I'm positive you can handle it.”

“I hope so,” I say softly.

Tasha reaches over, squeezes my hand. “I’m happy for you, Laurel. You’re so… joyous these days. Like you’re finally letting yourself shine. Best decision you ever made was giving that man a chance.”

I smile. “Yeah. Me too.”

The bartender finally appears, wiping sweat from his brow. Tasha orders two vodka sodas with lime, extra ice. I lean against her shoulder while we wait, the music pulsing around us, through us.

A minute later, two tall glasses slide across the sticky wood toward us. We each grab one, clink the rims together, and take long, grateful pulls.

Tasha exhales dramatically. “Good thing we didn’t drive here. Neither of us is in any state to operate a vehicle right now.”

I giggle into my glass. “You’re right. We’d be a hazard.”

She takes another sip, eyes sparkling. “Are you drunk?”