Page 26 of False Start

"Just something I got on a dare a while back," she replies faintly. It sounds like a lie, and her usually expressive face is unreadable.

Déjà vu of the first morning she fled my room hits me, and a sour taste fills the back of my throat. Apparently, I just tripped one of the many land mines surrounding this woman.

"You're heading out?" She's already fully clothed, and I rush to put on my jeans to follow her into the living room.

"Yeah." She steps into her kicks and shrugs her purse onto her shoulder. "I've been procrastinating on a project and I really need to get to work."

I nod. I know a bullshit excuse when I hear it. It doesn't usually rankle me like this, though. Part of me wants to beg her to stay, but another, bigger part is telling me to cut my losses.

"I'll text you," she says, and the door closes behind her before I can even respond.

There's no question: Denise is the best sex I've ever had.By far.But I can already feel myself getting in too deep.Feelingway too much. Maybe I should just let her be another hookup and move on…

Chapter twelve

Denise

ThehostessatSundayIn Brooklyn walks me and the girls to the table for Maya's Welcome Back brunch. We may have been a bit too boisterous while we waited, our screams earning us a few side eyes from passersby on the sidewalk.

"So how does it feel to not be a virgin anymore?" I tease with a snicker. Nearby patrons lean closer to eavesdrop, and Maya slaps my shoulder playfully.

"Girl, shut the fuck up," Maya says through a smirk, though there's no heat in her words.

"Three weeks is way too long to go without talking to your girls, Maya," Tiffany whines. She looks almost put out, and I try not to take it personally. Sure, we hung out while Maya was gone, but she and Maya were friends first. I'm sure she's dying to ask her about her throuple situation.

"Sorry,not sorry, Tiff," Maya swoons. "France wasincredible. The weather was perfect. The beaches were beautiful. And Adam and I didn't leave the hotel room for the first three days!"

We all giggle like schoolgirls, scandalized. Maya sighs wistfully, clearly lost in a memory.

"Once we came up for air, the food was amazing too. I probably gained ten pounds on baguettes alone!"

"Well, you don't look it," Tiff says, eyeing Maya appreciatively. "You're practically glowing."

The waiter comes by with the menus, but I stop him before he can make his exit.

"Can we go ahead and get mimosas all around while we look at the menu?" I ask. The waiter nods, and I turn back to the table.

"So…," I start, mischief in my tone, "A woman usually glows when she's pregnant. Did you and Adam get a head start on building your family in Nice?"

Tiffany covers an excited gasp with her hand, but Maya crosses herself.

"Jesus! Hold your tongue! I want at least a year with him to myself before we even start talking aboutthat. I'm pretty sure the glow you're seeing is from an excess of vitamin D," she says with a wicked smile.

We all giggle again. Hopefully the other patrons don't mind how extra we're being…not that I give a shit. It's not every day that a shipping mixup leads to a whirlwind romance and your best girlfriend getting married.

Envy itches under my skin, and I take several gulps from my mimosa as soon as it arrives. I'm perfectly happy living fancy free in these NYC streets. Why should I begrudge Maya her happiness?

Across the table, she and Tiffany are gabbing about the beach in Saint-Tropez and private wine tastings. Tiffany wasn't wrong; Maya's positively radiating love, joy, andconfidence. It's like she bloomed on her honeymoon, shedding her insecurities now that she found her soulmate.

My idea of happily ever after has less to do with dick and more to do with runway shows and features in Vogue. I'm probably just wishing I could travel like she did, or for the chance to show off in front of my friends and family. Well…just myfriends.

The waiter comes by and takes our orders before leaving wordlessly. Quiet waiters are so underrated; he's getting a big tip.

"Enough about me!" Maya insists, cutting into my unexpected moodiness. "How are things going with your designs for New York Fashion Week?"

This is why I love my girls. True girlfriends are always happy to share the spotlight. I bask in their attention.

"Things are going well, I think. I handed my initial sketches in last week, we'll get feedback from Mr. Maxwell, and then the chosen designs will get prototypes."

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