Page 54 of Just Friends Forever
Stevie knees me gently in the back, four of my favorite hot sauces held precariously between her fingers. “I saw that. Troy’s kept me sane,” she says as I take the sauces. “He’sthe one who needs a break. How was your new client meeting, by the way?”
“Good,” I say, dripping hot sauce over a piece of naan. “Though, it’ll be a small miracle if I can find this lady everything she wants within her price range.”
Stevie clenches her teeth as she sits down. “Oof.Twohard clients you have to deal with now.” She glances at Maggie. “Troy’s helping me find a house too.”
“Neither of you are hard clients,” I say, screwing the lid onto one bottle and taking up the next one. “And Evelyn doesn’t expect to get all the items on her wish list, which is exactly why I think she deserves to find a place with all of them. But that’s not really within my control.” I drip the second hot sauce on the biryani and mix it in.
Maggie watches me with fascination.
“Welcome to Troy’s Chemistry Lab,” Stevie explains. “He takes his hot sauce very seriously.”
“The proper ratios are vital,” I say, watching closely as one last drop falls onto the rice. I hurry to pull up the bottle to prevent another drip. “This one is two million Scoville units. One extra drop could mean death.”
“Oh, my gosh, really?”
Stevie shakes her head. “No. But itwouldlead to Troy doing hyperventilation-style breathing and crying like a baby for ten minutes.”
“Anyway,” I say sternly, “enough of that. What have you ladies been up to?”
“Besides eating enough food for the state of California?” Stevie asks. “Just talking, really. Catching up.” She rubs her lips together, looking more serious suddenly. “Maggie’s setting me up with her cousin.”
I choke and sputter, and hot sauce-laced basmati rice goes flying everywhere. Maggie and Stevie protect themselves as best they can, but their arm shields are no match for the shrapnel I’ve launched.
“I put one drop too many,” I say in a voice hoarse from the choking as they pull pieces from their hair. I clear my throat, hoping my excuse takes. “Now you see how serious the science of hot sauce is.”
Stevie is going out with Maggie’s cousin. She’s going to start dating again. That reality sinks into my heart like an emulsified Carolina Reaper pepper, burning me from the inside out.
“So, your cousin, eh?” I say, shoveling some more food in my mouth.
Maggie nods, backing up slightly, like I might erupt spicy rice again.
“Apparently, he’ll be really cool about it.” Stevie shrugs. “I just need to ease myself back into things, you know? I figure the longer I wait, the more awkward I’ll get, so it’s better to rip off the Band-Aid now.”
Rip off the Band-Aid, indeed. That’s exactly how this feels. Someone ripped off one of those superstrength fabric Band-Aids from my inner thigh, then poured some of this hot sauce on it.
“Sounds like a great idea.” I have to saysomething.
“I hope so,” Stevie says. “Do you and Lyla have plans tonight?”
“Um, I’m not sure what her plans are.” Why do I think it will make me feel better to say technically true statements that are actually misleading?
“You know,” she says, “the paparazzi all assumed Maggie was Lyla when she got here. It could be good for them to see your real girlfriend at some point, though I realize it’s a lot to ask of Lyla to agree to being in the tabloids.”
Lyla would probably love it, honestly.
Stevie rips off another piece of naan. “Knowing these people and their super sleuthing skills, they’ll probably figure out her identity soon anyway. I’m kind of surprised they haven’t already.”
My stomach drops. I hadn’t really considered how deep they might dig into my life. What if theydofind her? And then she tells them we aren’t together anymore? I can only assume she’s read the articles referring to her. She’s got to be wondering why in the world I haven’t clarified that we aren’t dating and weren’t ever in a “loving, committed relationship.”
I take in a deep breath, and it burns all over my mouth from the hot sauce. Lyla and I only dated briefly. We were never serious. I never met her family, and she never met mine. It’s not like we left a big paper trail or digital footprint of our relationship, and after our talk last time, I really don’t think she’d go to the press.
I should have a bit more time to figure out how to tell Stevie that I’m not dating Lyla anymore, because I do need to tell her.
* * *
I’ve only doneone set of squats when Stevie comes down the stairs from my apartment, wearing yoga shorts and a loose tank top.
“Care for a workout buddy?” she asks.
