Page 89 of The Friend Situation

I smirk, leaning in a bit closer. “What are you going to tell her?”

She glances at me, the corners of her mouth twitching. “What are you telling your brother? Our stories need to be the same.”

“We’re just friends,” I repeat, locking my gaze with hers as a sly smile curls her lips, “who fuck.”

She scoffs. “Actually, we haven’tyet.”

“Smart-ass,” I retort, leaning in to capture her lips, the warmth and sweetness igniting a familiar fire between us. “Do I need to change that right now?”

“I wish you would,” she breathes, her voice barely above a whisper, her breath quickening as I slide closer, gravity pulling me into the space between her legs.

I smirk, teasing her. “Then what would you have left to anticipate?”

I could take her right here before we reach my favorite diner. I can hear her desperate breaths and how she instantly responds to me.

“Oh my God, Weston! You’restillcockblocking me.”

I force myself back into my seat, adjusting my tuxedo with a grin. “I’m here to pleaseyou. You’re my focus. So are your wants, your needs, your desires, and your innermost fantasies. I’m determined to make every single one of them come true while weenhanceour friendship.”

Her smile reveals something deeper. “And what about wishes money can’t buy?”

“Oh, babe, I’m fulfilling those too.”

“Cocky.” She bites her bottom lip. Electricity crackles between us. “But don’t ever change.”

“Don’t plan on it.” My heart jumps as her green eyes hold mine, steadying the whirlwind inside me.

I want her; I crave her.

“You’re perfect just the way you are,” she encourages, a quiet sincerity framing her words. She means it.

“I don’t deserve you,” I say, feeling so fucking lucky to be living in this lifetime with her.

“You’re wrong.” The conviction in her voice is fierce, full of her truths.

Despite the fractures in my heart, she sees light lurking in the shadows that haunt me. I’ve been truthful, fully showing her the raw parts of myself, wanting her to understand who I am now. I don’t feel like the man she’s written about on her blog, but she reminds me that Iamhim.

This divorce reshaped me, and I find myself wishing, more than anything, that I’d never met Lena. In my experience, itisbetter to have never loved at all. Had I met Carlee earlier, she’d have gotten all of me, the me before my heart was wrecked. It’s one of my only regrets in life.

“Are you okay?” Carlee asks, her voice laced with concern as the limo glides to a stop in front of the diner.

“Yeah,” I tell her, summoning a smile that feels more like a mask. “Just lost in thought.”

“Stay in the moment with me.” She lightly bumps her shoulder into mine. “It’s a lot more fun here, I promise.”

“You’re right,” I admit. As I shift my focus to her, tension melts from my shoulders. “Thanks for saving me from that torture again.”

“I could say the same about you, especially tonight,” she replies, her fingers gently squeezing mine just as the car door swings open. “Now, come on. Let’s go be little piggies together.”

I can’t help but laugh. “I hope you never change either.”

“I’m kinda set in my ways,” she replies.

I want to kiss her, but it’s not safe. In public, we have to play it safe.

She steps onto the sidewalk that has a mound of snow shoveled to the side. The neon sign of the diner flickers like a bright invitation. When we enter, the smells of bacon and freshly brewed coffee fill the air. Carlee’s eyes light up at the sight of the checkered floor and old jukebox by the entrance. It’s packed with familiar faces, but they’re not friends or foes, just humans who share a space and food with me sometimes.

“Hey, Weston,” Millie, one of the waitresses, says over her shoulder as we stand by the front counter. “Your booth is open. Help yourself.”

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