“So you’re down to hang out, outside of the bedroom.”
She slowly nodded.
I leaned in and gave her a meaningful look. “That doesn’t sound like fuck-buddies to me.”
She rolled her eyes and threw her napkin onto the table. “Fine. Just forget about it.”
Maybe it would be better to say yes and just pretend. The way she’d looked at me the previous weekend, after our sex marathon, I was sure that I could seduce her into an actual relationship. We’d be dating in all but name.
But I really didn’t like playing games. I wanted us to be fully on the same page, 100% honest with each other. I shook my head and reached for her hand again. “Anna. I really enjoy spending time with you, and I think you enjoy spending time with me, too. I’d love to get to know you better. Whatever reservations you have about being coworkers or about wanting space so that you can work on stuff...we can figure it out together.”
From the purse of her lips and the way her brows drew together, it was clear that she was reluctant to say yes. I kneaded her hand in mine, trying to massage her doubts away, then lifted her hand to my lips and opened her fingers, planting a kiss on her palm. Her eyes slowly softened, and after a moment, she finally nodded. “Okay.”
“So you’re my girlfriend?” I asked, hope glowing in my chest.
She nodded again. “But I really want to take it slow. Really. I don’t want us to see each other everyday. I want space, and I want time to work on my music writing.”
“Of course.” I beamed and lifted my wine glass. “Cheers to us.”
She smiled and raised her own glass. “Cheers.” We each took a sip, and I savored the taste of merlot. And of victory.
“So can we go to your place after this?” she asked. “I’d like to keep celebrating with you.” Her face flushed slightly...from the alcohol, or from her thoughts?
Part of me wanted to go to her place and meet her ex-boyfriend. To make her moan loudly enough for him to know that she’d found a new man. But, one step at a time. “Of course.”
“Do you have any roommates?”
“No. I live by myself.”
“Where?”
“In Williamsburg.”
“That’s a cute area.”
“It is. You’ll fit right in.” She smiled charmingly in response, nibbling delicately at a piece of chicken.
We ate in relative silence after that, with only the occasional question or comment on our meals. Afterward, we glanced at the dessert menu, but found only French vanilla ice cream, which Anna declined—she only liked interesting, adventurous flavors. So I offered to take her out for ice cream after and she happily accepted.
When the check arrived, I reached for my wallet, but Anna grabbed the server book first.
“I want to pay.” She opened the server book and glanced at the amount, expressionless, then put her credit card inside.
“This restaurant is expensive, and I’m the one who picked it. You don’t have to pay for this.” I left out the obvious—that she didn’t have a job.
She pursed her lips. “I know that I don’t have to pay, but I want to.” Her tone was final.
“Alright then. Thanks.” No need to patronize her.
She placed the server book on the table and the waiter promptly came and took it away.
“But I’m paying for ice cream,” I said.
She smiled. “Deal.”
◆◆◆
We took the subway to my neck of the woods, where there was an amazing ice cream parlor not too far from my condo. To my surprise and delight, she ordered three scoops stacked one on top of the other, each a different flavor, in a huge waffle cone. I didn’t order anything—there was no way she’d be able to finish the whole thing by herself.
“You’re not afraid you’re going to fart a bunch tonight?” I joked.
Three scoops was a lot. I watched as she stuck her little pink tongue out and slowly licked from the bottom to the top, then put her lips on the small peak that she’d formed, pulling it into her mouth. Then she offered it to me and said with a straight face, “I’m a lady. Ladies don’t fart.”
I laughed and followed the trail that her tongue had taken. “I guess we’ll see.”
And we did. Her lovemaking that night had been decidedly unladylike. And much to my glee, she did fart.
Chapter 15
-Anna-
On Wednesdays, Asher and I liked to work on music together—me on my playlists, him on his song writing. He was the lead singer and keyboardist for Spice Dust, and he composed most of their songs, too. So while I sat on the couch with my headphones and laptop, hunting for new music, he sat on the floor with his headphones and keyboard, composing new music.
My phone buzzed beside me. Check your email. That’s all Cassie’s text message said. Curious, I opened my browser and navigated to my email inbox, as directed.
There were two new emails waiting for me, one from Cassie entitled, “Wedding Photos <3” and one from the recruiter at Stumpstash with the subject, “Regarding Your Candidacy.”
I wasn’t sure if she’d wanted me to check her wedding photos email or the Stumpstash email. Possibly both. She’d referred me, so she’d likely gotten a notification about my job candidacy, about whether or not we were now coworkers.
With a small sigh, I opened her email first.
Hey Nana,
I shared my wedding photos online—you probably saw them already! But I’m sending you a few special photosthat I’m sure you wouldn’t have wanted anyone else to see ;)
You guys are so cute together!
Love,
C
When I clicked on the link she’d sent, I noticed right away that by a few, she’d really meant way too many. I adjusted the screen so that I could more discreetly view the dozens of photos of me and Ian.
The photographer must have been keeping a close eye on us that night, because he or she had captured nearly all of our moments together.
Walking together to the ceremony, my arm looped through
