Page 46 of Someone to Have
“You want to come?” she asks. “We can grab a coffee and a cake pop, then pretend like we're teenagers hanging out at the mall. Like we're regular people.”
“Weareregular people.”
“You are. I'm not. I'm a single mom. There's nothing regular about that.” The shadows under her eyes tell the tale of carrying the weight of two parents' responsibilities on one person's shoulders.
“Because you're special.” I squeeze her hand.
“So is Tar-gét.” She pronounces it with the pretend French accent that makes me smile.
“Let me grab my purse and coat from the break room and tell Don I'm taking an early lunch.” Escaping the library suddenly feels like exactly what I need. Fresh air to clear my head of thoughts about Eric.
Molly pumps her fist. “I'll meet youby check out.”
·
“That's a lot of credit to give one orgasm,” Molly tells me twenty minutes later as we're meandering down the detergent aisle with our coffees in hand. I probably shouldn’t have shared what happened between Eric and me—blame it on the scent of cleaning products hanging in the air around us—but I needed someone to know about the subsequent magic that occurred.
“Keep your voice down,” I command on a hiss of breath. I glance at a woman examining fabric softeners nearby, my cheeks flaming. “The last thing I need is somebody overhearing this conversation.”
“Spring burst or mountain rain?” Molly asks in an overly loud tone as she points to the shelves of laundry detergent. She’s clearly enjoying my discomfort.
I roll my eyes but smile. “Mountain rain. We're in Colorado, after all.” The bottle reminds me of the color of the sky over the mountains this morning, the bright sun and blue sky making the cold air feel more tolerable.
“Got it,” she agrees and hefts a massive container into the cart. She leans closer and whispers, “Do we head to the personal pleasure aisle next?”
“You can't buy a vibrator in Target,” I protest, my voice a high-pitched squeak.
“Girl, you can.” She waggles her eyebrows. “Plus, you get five percent off with your card.”
“Wow…” I stifle a laugh. “Who knew?”
“Um, every single mom within a hundred miles,” she tells me with a wry smile.
“Gives new meaning to self-care Sunday.” The thought sends an unexpected flutter through my belly, reminding me of last night.
“Don't knock it. Why not take matters into your own hands? Or hand, as the case may be?”
“It's not the same.” My mind drifts back to Eric's touch, and a shiver runs through me.
“Sometimes it’s even better.”
I give her a pointed look. “I'd literally rather be in one of Don's interminably long staff meetings than having this conversation with you.”
“Cut me some slack. Nobody in the school pickup line wants to talk about this stuff.” She navigates her cart around a Valentine's Day display on the end cap.
“Neither do I.”
“You brought it up,” she says, then consults the list on her phone. “I need fruit chews.” She pushes her cart in the opposite direction and I follow. “How long has it been since you’ve had a partner in the fun?”
I consider that. “Too long. I’m sure Bryan will be worth the wait.” But even as I say the words, Eric's intense gaze and knowing smirk float to mind.
“There's no accounting for taste,” she says with an eye roll.
Heat creeps up the back of my neck. “Why don't any of you like him?” The question comes out sharper than I intended.
“Why hasn't he noticed you on his own?” she counters. Her words land like a punch to the gut.
“It's probably my fault he friend-zoned me. I haven't been giving off the right vibes.” I reach for a bag of chocolate chips and toss them into her cart.
