Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 95421 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 477(@200wpm)___ 382(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95421 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 477(@200wpm)___ 382(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
“Don’t even say that, Frannie. You’re not going anywhere.”
She smiled. “Maybe I should die on you, just so you’re stuck with my two kids as payback for that time you left me babysitting Mom’s friend Alana’s three little monsters when you were supposed to be helping me.”
I chuckled and lifted my tea to my lips. “You have a warped sense of humor.”
“Let’s get back to angry sex with the boss.”
“I didn’t have angry sex with the boss.”
“I know. But it sounds like you’re going to. What’s he look like?”
“He’s tall, dark, and sexy, with broad shoulders and an eight-pack. But he knows it.”
“I like confidence.”
“There’s a difference between confidence and cocky.”
My sister grinned. “I like cock too.”
I laughed. “Dawson is just…not a good idea.”
“Because he’s your boss?”
“That and… This may sound weird, but I feel like the man could annihilate me.”
“Wow. You’re really into him.”
“No, I’m not.”
“Whatever you say.” Frannie sipped her tea. “Are you going to see your ex from college again?”
“Simon asked me to go to dinner and an art gallery with him tonight. He’s only home for a few days. His sister’s wedding was last night.”
“Are you going?”
“I’m not sure. He texted while I was looking at apartments, and I told him I couldn’t make dinner, but maybe I’d meet him at the gallery. I haven’t decided if I’m going yet. Let me ask you, do you think men and women can be friends?”
“Of course. You have male friends, don’t you?”
“Mostly they’re husbands or partners of my female friends.”
“Well, I have lots of male friends at work.”
“Right.” I nodded. “Yeah, of course. Women can be friends with men.”
“So does that mean you’re going to the art gallery?”
I took a deep breath and let it out. “Yeah. I think I will.”
***
“Hey.” Simon’s face lit up when he saw me. “I didn’t think you were going to come.”
“Sorry about being so wishy washy. It’s just…work has me sort of tangled up at the moment.” Not a total lie.
“Well, I’m happy you got untangled. Come on, let’s get some champagne.”
Simon and I found a waiter with a tray full of flutes. We nabbed two, and he introduced me to a few colleagues.
“You know so many people here.”
“Three quarters of the guests are dentists. The artist is the wife of the senior partner at our practice. You come if you want to stay on his good side.”
We walked over to the first painting and stood in front of it. I wasn’t an art aficionado, but it looked like a bunch of poorly drawn circles to me.
“What do you think?” Simon asked.
“It’s…interesting.”
He grinned. “I’m pretty sure I could draw better circles putting the paintbrush between my toes. What the hell is it supposed to be?”
I laughed. “I have no damn idea.”
We walked to the next piece—a bunch of triangles.
“I’m sensing a theme here.” Simon chuckled. “Do you think she tackles the rhombus?”
“Shhh.” I looked around. “Someone might hear you.”
Simon drank his champagne. “Someone should tell the poor woman she’s not a very good artist.”
We made our rounds, checking out all the paintings. Underneath the last one, there was a bunch of numbers. I pointed to them. “How come this is the only one without a colored circle beneath it and instead has numbers?”
“This is the only one that’s not been sold.”
“Oh wow. I’m afraid to ask, but what do they go for?”
He tilted his champagne glass toward the numbers—the five digits. “That’s the price.”
“Please tell me someone forgot the decimal.”
“Nope. For the bargain price of twenty-two thousand, four-hundred-and-fifty dollars, this baby could be yours.”
“I should’ve been an artist.”
“Tell me about it.”
A little while later, Simon introduced me to the artist and her husband. We chatted with a few of his colleagues and had a second glass of champagne.
“I’m sorry the art wasn’t great. I’d heard the pieces were expensive, and I dumbly equated that to talent.”
“It’s fine. I’m glad I came.”
“We can sneak out of here now that the big boss saw me, but I’m not ready to call it a night. You want to come back to my place for a while? It’s only a few blocks.”
“Umm…”
“Come on. I’m going back to India tomorrow. This can’t be my last bit of fun before twenty-six hours of traveling.”
I smiled. “Sure. Why not?”
Simon weaved our fingers together during the walk. It felt nice, a familiarity to it, like two old friends catching up.
Once we got back to his apartment, he went to the kitchen. “Go sit. Take your shoes off and get comfy. I’ll pour us some wine.”
My feet hadn’t yet become accustomed to pounding the pavement in heels, so taking them off for a while sounded good. Back in Virginia, I’d mostly driven everywhere. “Okay. Thanks.”
After a moment, Simon passed me a glass and took a seat on the couch next to me. He sipped. “This is nice, isn’t it?”