Page 118 of This Could Be Us

“He likes me,” I admit.

“We knew that since he came to the house looking at you like you were rolled in sprinkles,” Hendrix says. “You like him too. We know all of this. What we don’t know is how was the sex?”

I cover my face. “I’m in trouble.”

Yasmen pries my fingers away one by one, catching and holding my eyes. “It was that good?”

I lower both hands and sigh.

“I think in the back of my mind, as soon as he said his boys weren’t home, I knew it would happen.” I pause to give my next statement the gravity it deserves. “He was wearing glasses when I got there.”

They both gasp because we all know I have a spectacles kink.

“And you immediately wondered,” Hendrix intones without a trace of humor, “How does one best sit on a man’s face when he’s wearing glasses?”

“I did wonder that and not for the first time, yes.” I shrug helplessly. “They were black rimmed. I’m not made of stone.”

“Girl, no one could blame you under those circumstances.” Hendrix sips her tea. “Of course you went to him with legs wide open.”

“You’re two consenting adults,” Yasmen says. “You’re both single. You both knew what you were getting into, right?”

“Yeah, I told him that it was one time, and he understood. He asked if it was revenge because of what I’d just found out about Edward and Amber.”

“And?” Hendrix lifts dark, querying brows. “Was this someget your lick backsex?”

“No, it really wasn’t. I just wanted something for me. I wantedhimfor me, and I knew Judah wanted me. It felt good to be wanted like that. With him, it was the most beautiful…” I swallow a hitching breath. “It was so perfect. All I kept thinking was,I’m forty years old. How did I not know it could be like this? How did I settle for less than thisfor so long? And would I have kept settling if Edward hadn’t showed his whole ass? What if I had gone my entire life without this?”

It’s quiet at the table as my rhetorical questions hang in the air.

“He hasn’t been with anyone since his divorce nearly four years ago,” I go on, my voice weighted with the significance of that knowledge. “Like no dates. Nothing. He’s been celibate and doesn’t really do casual sex.”

“And you believed him when he said it would be a one-time thing?” Hendrix lightly coats her words with exasperation. “That man’s in love with you, Sol.”

“No.” I shake my head. “He can’t be.” I bite my thumbnail and give them a pleading look. “Can he?”

“How do you feel?” Yasmen asks. “Be honest with us. Be honest with yourself.”

I gulp back the excuses and wave away the smoke screen responses to give them the unfiltered truth. “I’m scared. What if the feelings I have aren’t just liking him, but not liking being alone? Not wanting to rely on myself because relying on a man was a habit?”

“You’re not asking him to pay your mortgage,” Hendrix says dryly.

“There are other ways to rely on someone, Hen,” I say. “This chapter is supposed to be about contentment—about discerning the difference between being alone and being lonely.”

“You had Edward, but weren’t you lonely in your marriage?” Yasmen asks.

I was. They both know. Answering would be redundant, so I don’t bother replying.

“Maybe the key is finding contentment wherever you are, whoever you’re with,” Yasmen goes on. “Knowing you always have you. Do you have to deny yourself happiness with someone else in order to be happy with yourself?”

“That’s the problem.” I look down at my hands in my lap. “I’m not sure anymore. Of all the things Edward took from me, the trust I had in myself seems to be the hardest to recover.”

Servers bring food out before I get to say more, but as soon as we have our plates and are eating, my friends return to the subject, of course.

“I saw the way he watched you at the Harvest Festival,” Yasmen says, a spoonful of shrimp and grits poised at her mouth. “That man been gone for you.”

“Hehasbeen planning this for some time, apparently,” I laugh around a mouthful of green beans. “You should have seen what he had in his nightstand.”

“Condoms?” Hendrix asks, cracking a smile.

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