Page 46 of Doing It for Love

Oh, sweet loving monkeys.It’s like a natural shot of endorphins straight to my hypothalamus.

Theresa kicks her feet up next to me on the seat, taking the daintiest bites possible, while I’m seconds away from nose-diving into the raspberry sauce.

“You should propose, like, a once-a-month deal.”

“I can’t do that,” I say around the soft cream-cheese goodness. Do they make this stuff with hormone drugs? “He’ll totally rub it in. And seriously, this wasyouridea. Why are you not backing me up?”

“Oh come on. I have flimsy ideas all the time. Like you.”

She’sgotto be kidding me.

I. Am. Not. Flimsy!

Sure, I went into theater classes and quit that.

And I spent exactly two days learning piano.

And maybe I try diets for about twenty seconds before I see a burger I must devour.

But that’s normal. I can stick to my guns when I want to.

“Well, I’mfine,” I say, wiping my finger across my now-empty plate. “I can stand another three and a half months. It’s not even that bad, really. And I can commit, damn it. I’m gettingmarried.Do flimsy girls get married? Hell no! So if I want to wait to hump my crazy sexy fiancé into oblivion, I will do it! I’ll show you guys Elizabeth Fanning is not a flake!”

Theresa’s mouth is wide open, slight smile in the corners, and her palms are up.

“Okay, Liz. Step away from the fork.”

I breathe heavy, looking down at my hand clutching my utensil like I’m about to gouge the next person who walks by. Several patrons are looking at me—a pair of old ladies are giggling and winking. A couple of freshmen from NYU stare blatantly at my boobs. And a mother covers her ten-year-old’s ears.

“Oh, balls,” I say, dropping the fork and resting my forehead in my hands. “What is happening to me?”

“Eat more chocolate.” Theresa shoves her plate toward me.

“You can’t have sex with chocolate.”

“You can, but it gets messy.”

An image of Landon covered in Hershey’s Chocolate Syrup plants itself in every thought recess, and suddenly I’m adding whipped cream, raspberries, and my legs clench together under the table.

“Damn it. You’re supposed to be helping me.”

“Oh!” She slaps her hands on the table, jolting me in my seat. “Let’s find your dress!”

“It’s depressing enough with my lady bits on lockdown. Now you want me to go look at gorgeous dresses I can’t afford.”

“Don’t think about it. Let’s just browse.”

Even though it’s probably the last thing that’ll help my terrible sex-deprived, penny-pinching body, I let her drag me from the booth and out to the car. She taps on her Google Maps app, and I sit in the front seat, contemplating the many ways I could cheat and relieve some of the pressure.

But I’ve never been a good liar. Landon would see right through my satisfied face…and the fact that I’m not snapping at him every time he says…well, anything.

“There’s a place about twenty minutes away.”

“Whatever.”

“Geez, I’m buying you more chocolate.”

She pulls into a gas station and gets me a huge Symphony Bar, and I jam it into my purse. I’ll save it for after I look at every dress that is so out of my budget.

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