The genie is still in the lamp, I’m sure.
“The kiss was quite intentional though?” Scarlett asks, as if needing to confirm it.
“It was.”
She sighs. “Interesting.”
I sit up, skin prickling, spidey-senses on alert. “What do you mean?”
“Well, you went from going as friends to ending the night with a kiss. That’s interesting.” She stops at a street corner, the sound of a bus rumbling along the boulevard landing on my ears.
“Interesting good, or interesting bad?” Nerves speckle my voice. My anxiety resurfaces. Did I mess things up? “Should I be worried about something?”
She laughs, shaking her head. “No. At least I don’t think so. But how did you end things with him?”
My heart beats faster with worry. Like I did something wrong by tiptoeing across that line. Maybe we both did. “I’m seeing him later this week because he’s going to be my plus-one at the Sports Network Awards. Why do you sound like you’re worried about me? Should I be worried?”
She shakes her head. “I’m not, my friend. You’re a badass woman. An adult. A formidable force of nature and the toughest owner in the NFL.” She draws a deep breath as she crosses the street. “But you also entertained a spectacular kiss with a man you want last night.”
“Right, but we agreed to be friends with benefits. We were both on the same page. Besides, he has spring training in a little more than a week, so he’ll be gone. It’s not like there’s even a chance for this to continue,” I say, telling her and reminding myself. Sure, we crossed the line, but we both agreed to, both wanted to, and both know we can handle it. “We’re simply going to two events together, and if something happens, fine. But it’s not like we made any plans to kiss again per se.”
Though as I give that voice, the words sound odd—like I’m convincing myself.
“Ah, it’s the friends-with-benefits plan. That ought to be quite uncomplicated,” she says, nodding as she marches past a chocolate shop.
The sight of it makes my mouth water, even as her dry words make my stomach churn. “You think I’m being foolish?”
She laughs gently. “I don’t think you’re being foolish,” she says, taking her time, speaking slowly. “But I also think you should be realistic about what this is. Friends with benefits is risky—both to the benefits and the friendship. Even with the expiration date.”
I sit up straighter, absorbing her words. “Of course,” I say, drawing on my stores of confidence, my internal strength. “I know that. I’ll remember it. I swear. And the expiration date just makes sense.”
“Good. You always remember your first,” she says.
I blink. “I’m not thinking about sleeping with him.”
Scarlett laughs, arching a dubious brow. “Did you hear how high-pitched your voice just went?”
“Because I wanted you to know how I feel.”
“Yes, how do you feel after kissing him?”
I narrow my eyes. “You’re trying to trick me.”
She laughs, but it’s a reassuring sound. “Fine, maybe you’re not thinking about it, but I’m thinking about it for you. And I just want you to think things through. Just know the score, Nadia. And go in prepared for . . . anything.”
“I will. I promise,” I say, both to her and to myself, and try not to think of first times with Crosby.
We talk more, and she catches me up on life in Paris with the dashing and charming Englishman she fell in love with recently.
“Things are fantastic with Daniel,” she says. “Since we finished our acquisition of the boutique hotels, we celebrated by going to Amsterdam for the weekend and indulged in dancing, food, and all sorts of decadence.”
“Happy sigh,” I say, as she entertains me with more tales of her European life and love. They checked out the castles, took a boat tour, and savored every second together.
It all sounds too good to be true, except it’s real and she worked hard for her happily ever after. Plus, given how her first husband julienned her heart, she deserves it.
I believe that good people do deserve love.
Scarlett is one of the best people I know, and she’s found true love.
Like my parents had.
Like Brooke has with her husband.
Like Eric seems to have with Mariana.
I love that kind of love. I want that kind . . . someday. The forever kind. The true kind.
But not now. I have too much on my plate, and Crosby isn’t keen on dating, so there’s no reason why two old friends who’ve known each other for a long time shouldn’t enjoy the benefits of our friendship.
I say goodbye to Scarlett, determined to be prepared for anything that comes my way.
That’s all I have to do when I see Crosby again. Just be prepared.
I head to the bathroom to take a shower, checking my phone one last time before I get in. A text from Crosby blinks at me.
Crosby: Just so you know, I slept hard last night. It was an accidental sleep. But it was the best accidental sleep I’ve ever had. In fact, I think last night was full of all sorts of terrific accidents that should be repeated.
I practically squeeze the phone against my chest, shimmy my shoulders, and fox-trot across the tiles before I reply.
Nadia: Is “repeat” a dirty word?
Crosby: Maybe it is. We’ll find out. PS: feel free to send me any pics of what you’re going to wear to the event. You know, for my corsage shopping. Think I’m going to get you a new one.
Nadia: When I decide, I’ll snap a pic.
Crosby: Can’t wait.
I can’t either.
I’m giddy and electrified the rest of the day. I return home to finish organizing my new place, including sorting out my little darlings—though some are quite large, big darlings sounds so gauche. Setting down a satiny piece of fabric in my nightstand drawer, I arrange my favorites, then charge some others in the bathroom.
Another mantra of mine—there’s no excuse for an uncharged vibrator.
I learned that lesson the hard way one night when
