Page 47 of The Friend Situation

I notice how her pulse upticks in her neck.

“I kinda miss the girl I used to be. I didn’t take life so seriously. Men were disposable.” Her gaze trails down my eyes to my lips and along my jawline.

“You should stopthat.” I take a bite of potatoes.

She rests her chin on her fist, batting her long eyelashes. “Stop what?”

“Eye-fucking me,Little Miss Tipsy,” I say, knowing she needs the reminder before she takes it too far. “Don’t start something you don’t plan on finishing.”

“Is that what I’m doing?”

The attraction swirling between us is undeniable. Dangerous,electric.

“What do you want in a partner?” I ask as we continue eating.

“I want to be with someone who makes me feel alive.” A bright smile touches her lips, almost as if she’s imagining it. “It’s been years since I’ve felt what love carries with it. The beginning, when everything is new and exciting. The falling-in-love part—it’s my favorite. I crave that.” She swallows hard. “Probably sounds pathetic.”

“No,” I whisper. “Only someone who’s experienced love understands.”

She nods.

“I have a confession,” I whisper. “I was super fucking jealous of Easton. Of course, I’m happy for him because I want the absolute best for my brother, but knowing he was experiencing what I wanted so badly, seeing him so damn happy, only reminded me of how alone I was. The isolation I’ve felt since filing for divorce wasn’t something I was prepared for.” I sigh. “It’s difficult to explain.”

Carlee chews on her lip. “I felt the same way but never mentioned it because I feared how selfish it’d make me sound. I’m stupidly happy for Lexi and Easton, and they deserve what they have. But it woke me up and made me realize life was changing. It’s a reminder that I’m not getting any younger, and after all these horrible dates, I’m losing hope.”

“The only saving grace for me has been our friendship,” I admit.

“Same,” she says.

We finish eating and continue chatting. Another round of drinks is placed on the table as our empty plates are removed.

“Dessert?”

She holds up her fresh martini. “This is dessert.”

“What number is that?” I need to know what I’m dealing with.

“Five?”

I burst into laughter. “Great.”

She twirls the straw in her drink. “Was tonight a complete waste?”

“It never is when I’m with you,” I mutter.

Our bill is placed on the edge of the table. I give the server my card, and soon, I’m signing my name on the bottom.

“Guess our night is over,” she whispers.

I slide out of the booth, holding out my hand for her. She looks up into my eyes.

I lean in and mutter in her ear, “Come home with me,” as I hook one finger with hers.

“Okay,” she whispers with a smile as I place my hand on the small of her back, leading her through the restaurant.

“Really?” I ask.

“It’s time for me to start saying yes,” she admits.

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