Page 91 of Enemies to French Kisses
“That’s it,” Jessica whispers. “She needs some sense talked into her.”
Last night, I finally had the chance to go out with the man who has been weighing on my mind, and nerves, for months—and the only thing making chemistry were the truffles in my belly.
That kiss. That kiss was a kiss I will never forget for my entire life.
And yet, the man and I couldn’t have a normal dinner together. Nothing to say when we should have been finally living what this was supposed to be. But all I could think about was how I’d sent the man I’ve fallen for down a set of steps head first because I’d misjudged him from the beginning. Who does that? What’s wrong with me?
My phone rings and I’m pretty sure I just swallowed the pillow. I wrestle with the covers because maybe, finally, Marc has figured out what went wrong and is about to dissipate all sense of madness and replace it with the passion we had that morning…
Or not. It’s Brian calling.
“Bro.”
“Whoa, that’s the greeting I get?”
“You’re calling me in the middle of the night Texas time, so I guess you need something from me. Did you forget the password for the gas company again?”
“I had a feeling you were being salty this morning.”
“Is that why you called? To criticize my condition?”
“As a matter of fact…”
“Wait a second.” I peek out from under the covers where the girls disperse in the apartment like swatted flies. “Did they put you up to this?”
“They’re worried. So am I.”
I pull the covers up over my face again. “I’m fine. I just need some time to be salty, to kick myself for being a super-dork, and then I’ll go back to being the woman who made a multi-million dollar deal happen yesterday.”
“I knew it! I knew you’d have the Dutch eating out of the palm of your hand. All the more likely if you made your fried chicken for them.”
“No chickens were harmed in the making of this deal.” My stomach growls at the thought of southern fried chicken… “So let me have my mope and then I’ll be fine.”
“Laura?”
“Mmm?”
“You’re living in a shoebox with five other girls. They know when you’re struggling. Don’t do that thing where you try to smush it all down like it’s nothing. They know. They love you. And you’ll be the better for letting it out with them.”
“Since when does my little brother come out with such big man advice?”
He sighs. “Oh, sis. A lot has changed that you haven’t seen, and that was long before you left for Paris. One day you’ll catch up. Now let me sleep. I’m doing nights this week.”
“Bro?”
“Mmm?”
“Love you.”
“Me too, sis.”
I’m not quite ready to face them all, but Brian is right. In this shoebox, not much is for the hiding.
“Are you all around?” Small sounds confirm what I already thought. “Telling on me to my little brother. That’s stooping pretty low.”
“It just came out.” I know Jessica’s voice, but the defensiveness in it is a new one.
“It just came out?”
