Friends. She wasn’t sure she’d go that far, but it was one ofthose umbrella words that offered shade to all manner of connections. “Allright.”
Mel held the door as they entered the hotel. In the ten or sosteps it took to get to the bar, she rested her hand in the small of Amanda’sback. Strange. Or, maybe, strange of her to notice.
The bar was dim, elegant rather than seedy. Small candlesflickered on dark wood tables. Couples got cozy on leather love seats and inhigh-backed booths. Amanda cleared her throat. That had bad idea written allover it. “Why don’t we sit at the bar?”
Mel chuckled but didn’t argue. “Old-fashioned?”
Amanda smiled in spite of herself. Mel forgot their anniversaryat least half the years they were married, but she always remembered the littlethings. Like Amanda’s favorite drink. “Yes, please.”
They took a pair of stools at the end of the bar. Not quite as intimateas one of the tables but not far off. Mel snagged the attention of thebartender and ordered. She still took her bourbon neat.
When their drinks came, Mel raised her glass. “Here’s to making acouple of fantastic kids.”
It would be impossible not to toast that. She tapped her glass toMel’s. “Cheers.”
Mel sipped her drink. “How are you?”
“You know, I’m good.” She realized how nice it was to mean it andnot just say it. “What about you?”
Mel sighed and shook her head. “Bella and I are doing a trial separation.”
“Oh. Oh, Mel, I’m sorry.” There might have been a time when she’dhave wished doom on their marriage, but it was a long time ago. “Whathappened?”
Mel shrugged, seemingly at a loss. “We’ve been fighting nonstop.We’re trying to take a breather, let the dust settle.”
That explained why she was by herself. And clingy. “What’scausing all the tension?”
“Well, I don’t think the fertility treatments are helping.” Sherolled her eyes and laughed.
“Fertility treatments?”
Another shrug. “Bella wants kids. I didn’t feel like I could denyher because I’d already done the parenting thing.”
Amanda pressed her fingers to her eyes. “You know that’s aterrible reason to have kids, right?”
“Yes, right after having them to save a marriage.” Mel nodded,seemingly aware of the absurdity of what she was saying.
God, this was so none of her business. “Look, I’m not about totell you—”
Mel raised a hand. “Don’t worry. We’ve hit the pause button fornow.”
Relief spread through her. She didn’t stop to analyze whether ithad more to do with bringing a baby into a failing relationship or the idea ofMel having a baby with another woman. Because, again, it was none of herbusiness.
“Let’s change the subject, shall we?”
Normally, she hated when Mel did that. This time, though, she wasin total agreement. “Let’s.”
“What’s going on with you? Tell me all the things.”
It was strange and more than a little satisfying to be the onewith exciting goings-on. “I had my first meeting with the architect about theaddition to the bakery.”
“Oh. Do tell.”
The thing about Mel was, for all her faults, she knew how to worka conversation. Being the center of her attention felt like being the center ofthe universe. It had been years since Amanda experienced it, but the pull wasno less potent.
After the bakery, Mel asked about the house and the garden. Shedismissed questions about her own work, calling it too boring to warrantmention. One drink became two. Amanda knew she’d regret the third—or was it thefourth?—but she couldn’t remember the last time she’d let loose. Her kids wereoff doing their thing and it wasn’t like she had to drive. The jazz in thebackground was soft and the company, whether she wanted to admit it or not, wasgood.
Maybe her vision started to blur a hair. Maybe she put a hand onMel’s arm. Maybe Mel’s hand landed on her thigh. Maybe it inched up in a waythat felt familiar but exciting at the same time. Maybe Mel kissed her in theelevator on the way up to their respective rooms.
Maybe she didn’t make it to her own room at all.
Chapter Four
Amanda blinked open her eyes. Sunlight poured through thewindows. Odd that she hadn’t pulled the curtains. She moved her head and wincedat the pain that ricocheted like a pinball in her skull. The reason for theheadache hit her one second before the other details of the night.
Oh, God.
Slowly, she turned her head the rest of the way, hoping forsomething—anything—other than what she knew would be waiting for her. Mel’sface, with that half smile of sleep, mere inches from hers. Mel’s naked torso aconfirmation of the hazy memory.
Oh. God.
What had she done? And for the love of all that was good andholy, why?
As if sensing her awakeness, or maybe her panic, Mel opened hereyes. “Well, good morning.”
The laid-back confidence was almost too much. If she didn’t thinksudden movement might make her vomit, Amanda would have hauled herself out ofbed and away from Mel faster than she could have uttered the word regret. Sincevomiting remained a very real possibility, she covered her eyes with her hands.“What did we do?”
Mel propped her head in her hand. “We had an amazing time.”
“You’re married.”
“Separated.”
Right. They’d discussed that somewhere between Daniella’s summerplans and tearing each other’s clothes off. “Trial separation. You’re stillliving together.”
Mel shrugged, clearly unbothered by the specifics. “I’m notcheating on her. We agreed we could see other people. Is that what you’reworried about?”
It was on the list, for sure, but by no means the only thingfreaking her the fuck out. “I can’t even begin to articulate all the ways thisis wrong.”
Mel looked at her earnestly then. The same eager puppy eyes aslast night. “But think how much history we have. That has to make it at leastthe tiniest bit right.”
That was the problem. Yes, Mel was her college sweetheart. Theyhad close to fifteen years together and two smart, beautiful children. Theyalso had years of fighting, Mel’s affair with the woman who was now her wife,and a rather nasty divorce. They’d finally settled into something resemblingfriendship. And now they’d gone and ruined it.
“I can see your wheels turning. You’re overthinking this, trustme.”
“Well, at least one of us needs to
