Page 39 of The Love You Fight For
I read the latest news articles that mention my father, all of which work to sour my mood. Then I take out my second cell and power it on for my morning check-in, expecting to see nothing, like usual. Instead, there’s a meeting request for later today.
I groan and tip my head back.
I had plans to catch up on work today. I have two separate deadlines, and I’m dangerously close to falling behind. Instead, now, I have to drive three hours south, pretend to be interested in a rare handbag from a small boutique, then sit for an hour in a fucking coffee shop until my guest decides to show up and pretend she doesn’t know me.
I don’t want to. I don’t want to do any of it, but I remind myself how good it’s going to feel when I can finally light a match and drop it on all this gasoline I’ve spilled.
I’ve got a few hours before I have to head out, so I text Lennon and ask if she wants to move our brunch date up to now and meet in the next town over since half of Franklin is still out of power.
Thirty-five minutes later, I’m sitting at an outdoor table with my best friend, and for an hour or so, I can pretend that this is my life. This isallof my life, the entirety of it, and nothing else exists.
“Can I get a glass of orange juice in a flute with a dash of seltzer, please? And if you can drop a few raspberries in there, that would be great,” Lennon says to the server.
“Of course.” He writes it on his pad before looking at me. “And for you?”
“I’ll have the same, please. And a coffee.”
The server scribbles my drink and disappears, and Lennon turns to me.
“You can have a real mimosa, Sam. It doesn’t bother me at all.”
She reaches for her water glass at the same time I do, and I shrug.
“I don’t mind. I got a little tipsy last night, so I should take it easy anyway.” I go to take a sip of my water, then stop. “Did you know Casper has his dick pierced?”
Lennon starts coughing, choking on her sip of water and laughing at the same time with a look of shock on her face.
“Shit, sorry.” I lean over to rub circles on her back. “Maybe I should have given some warning.”
She waves me off and shakes her head.
“Howdo you know?” she forces out, and I bite back a grin and speak casually.
“I saw it, of course. I mean, it was kind of hard to miss at eye level.”
“WHAT?”Lennon shrieks, then slaps a hand over her mouth and looks around apologetically at the other tables before zeroing back in on me. She lowers her voice to a conspiratorial whisper and leans across the table. “I’m sorry, but whatexactlyare you implying?Whywould his dick be exposed at your eye level?”
I laugh.
“Lennon, I know you know. Or do we have to havethe talkagain? Have things with Macon gone stagnate, and you’ve forgotten what sex is?”
Her jaw drops.
“You shut up.” When my smile grows, so does hers, and her eyes grow as wide as the mouth of her water glass. “You shut up right now, Sam. You had sex with him?”
I purse my lips.
“Well, technically, no, since it was only oral. But it was oralsex, so I guess also technically, yes.”
“Oral.” She gasps. “But you don’t do oral. You’re strictly in and out. Literally.”
I smirk and shrug.
“I made an exception.”
A laugh bubbles out of Lennon, and then one follows from me, until we both start to laugh until the server brings our mock mimosas and my coffee, and we have to calm down enough to place our food orders.
“Okay, I want to know everything,” Lennon says as soon as the server leaves. “Every dirty little detail.” When my lips curve into a smile, she gasps. “Oh my god, it was really good, wasn’t it?”
