I nod. “Of course.”
Because I want to lick your body too much to cancel that, I add silently.
“Good,” he says. “Now, I’m gonna get going. Do you want me to get you a coffee or something before I go?”
I shake my head. “No, I’m getting up.”
He bends and kisses my forehead. “Last night was fun. Call and set up an appointment for next weekend, okay?” I nod again.
And then he’s gone.
And I’m alone in my room.
I throw on my robe and pad down to the kitchen to make some coffee. I eye the damage. There is salt sprinkled on the floor, my clothes are in the middle of the room and everything is cleared off the breakfast bar.
I smile at the memory of last night.
Well, no one can say that I’m not daring and fun.
I sigh and start to clean up the carnage.
********
“You did what??” Sara is astonished and practically speechless, which is something that I feel compelled to mark on my calendar. “You spent the night with him in your house?”
I nod. “Yup. And he was Colby, not Shade. I’ve clearly blurred some sort of invisible boundary. But I cleared it up with him. It was a temporary slip. Things will go back to normal now.”
Sara eyes me doubtfully. We are in the middle of the park again for lunch and so she has to keep her voice down or she will scare the little old folks who come here to feed the ducks.
“I don’t know about that,” she says. “I think it’s one of those situations where once you cross that line nothing will ever be the same. I mean, you’ve had sex with Colby now. Before, you just had sex with Shade. This is huge, Alli. Maybe you should just consider dating him.”
I stare at her.
But not before those images flash through my head. Me and Colby, dating. Going to the movies. Having dinner. Having people mistake him for my son. No, thank you.
So I tell her that.
“People would think he’s my son,” I say firmly. “And while I like the arrangement that we have, I’m not going to date him. Not gonna happen, Sara.”
She clamps her mouth shut. “We’ll see, Miss Tightly Wound. We’ll see.”
“No, we won’t,” I tell her. “Not this time. But speaking of seeing... Look at my face and tell me what you see.”
I lean over my turkey club and shove my face into hers. She’s startled for a second, but then she peers into mine, her eyes staring into my own.
“What exactly am I looking for?” she asks as she examines me.
“My crow’s feet,” I answer. “How bad are they? Rick the Dick was at my house this weekend and among other things, he mentioned that I have horrible crow’s feet. Do I?”
She turns my face to and fro in the light.
“They’re there,” she announces. “But they’re not horrible. Rick is a dick. Obviously. You’re thirty-five. You’re going to have laugh lines. We laugh a lot. It’s unavoidable.”
Sara picks her sandwich back up and chomps on it, unconcerned.
“Is it?” I answer thoughtfully, staring into space. “Have you ever tried Botox?”
Sara almost chokes and I whomp her on her back. I briefly remember the Brazilian wax incident and whomp a little harder than necessary. Then I smile evilly. Whomping her thin little back is surprisingly satisfying.
“Are you serious?” she chokes out, wiping her mouth on a napkin as she shoves my hand away. “You’re not getting Botox. You know what that is, right? It’s the bacteria that causes botulism. It’s a freaking toxin.”
“Oh, I know,” I tell her. “And I’m not getting Botox. We are.”
She chokes again.
“No. If you think that… no.” She stares at me as firmly as she can, looking down her skinny nose at me. Her short, spiky red hair looks like even it has risen up in mutiny against me, as well. I smile.
“Oh, yes,” I tell her. “I dated a gigolo, had sex with the gigolo, bought a sex toy and had a Brazilian wax. All at your behest. And I have to admit, those were good ideas. You’re going to have to concede that sometimes I have good ideas too. I’m pretty sure that this is one of those times.”
She is stammering now. Utterly speechless. I’m definitely going to have to mark this on the calendar.
“But… but… botulism is a bacteria. Injected into my face! That’s different than…”
“Different than a stranger’s penis injected into my vagina?” I ask innocently. Sara all but sputters.
“No, but you liked it!”
“Of course I liked it!” I stare at her like she’s grown two heads. “That penis is attached to a perfect twenty-something body. And I’m sure that you will like the Botox, as well. You’ve got crow’s feet too, you know. I’ve never wanted to say anything before. But you might as well know. We could both use an age-eraser. And that’s exactly what Botox is. And supposedly, it doesn’t even hurt.”
“You’re the devil,” Sara announces as she cleans up her lunch trash.
“Irrelevant,” I answer sweetly, throwing her words from the other day back at her. “And you’re a devil, too. That’s why we love each other so much. I’ll make the appointment.”
“I can’t do it tonight,” she snaps. “I have Spinning.”
“That’s fine,” I say soothingly. “I’m sure they have openings for tomorrow night.”
Sara flounces off, but not before glaring at me a couple of times for good measure. She turns and flips me off with both hands when she’s halfway to her car. Both hands—because she means business. I laugh and the elderly lady sitting next to us gasps.
I lean over. “I’m sorry about that, m’am.”
But I’m really not. It feels good to get one over on Sara for once in my life. It’s been a long time coming. She’s usually the one pulling this kind of shit.
I’m in a fabulous mood as I return to my office and enlist Taylor’s help in researching the best plastic surgeon in town with Botox. She’s got an appointment for Sara and I within the hour.