But today . . . someone wanted her. Someone had kissed her. Asked her out on a date.
It seemed like forever since she’d been kissed, she thought, her hand brushing her mouth again. It still felt bruised from the intensity of his kiss.
If I didn’t like you, would I do this?
He wouldn’t have. There was no reason for him to kiss her otherwise. And it had been a good kiss. It had made her toes curl, and her long-dormant needs spring forth like a bear coming out of hibernation.
She didn’t understand Magnus at all, but heaven help her, she wanted to accept that date. She was terrified to, though. Dating meant getting hurt. It meant opening yourself up to another person and complete and utter rejection.
The last time she’d been rejected, it had been so ugly, so bone-deep that she still wore the scars. She was afraid to take another chance. After all, she thought as she scratched a whiskery chin. There were always cats.
Damn. Bianca was right. She really was going to turn into the crazy cat lady.
With a heavy sigh, she moved as carefully as possible in bed, trying not to displace the other occupants. She reached for her phone, ran her thumb across the screen to turn it on, and texted Gretchen.
So . . . what do you know about Magnus Sullivan? He asked me out today.
Gretchen’s answer came almost immediately despite the late hour. I know that I’m a GODDAMN GENIUS for sitting you two together. Name your first kid Gretchen for me, mmmkay?
All right , Edie texted, But if it’s a boy, he’s gonna get picked on.
Gretchen: Nah. I will buy my godchild the best kung-fu lessons possible.
Edie: How did we get from “should I date this guy” to teaching my imaginary child kung fu?
Gretchen: The power of imagination?
Edie: Seriously, how well do you know him?
Gretchen: I don’t know him at all, toots, but Hunter likes him enough to include him in the wedding. He sold him that kooky-as-shit art warehouse thing. Have you seen that place? It’s a monstrosity. An expensive one.
Edie: I saw it.
Gretchen: Damn girl, you move fast. Use protection.
Edie: No, not like that! He got a cat. I’m working with it.
Gretchen: Huh. He didn’t seem like the cat type to me.
Edie: Right? But it’s a beautiful one. F2 Savannah cat if I don’t miss my guess.
Gretchen: Blah blah blah. Is it naked like my Igor?
Edie: No that’s a different breed, you ding-a-ling.
Gretchen: Igor says hello by the way.
Edie: Focus, please. Ask Hunter what Magnus is like.
Gretchen: Girl, you do realize he is giving me the man-stare and saying he is “fine”? Men are not good with the whole “but is he considerate in bed” and “does he kiss well” questions. Just date him. You guys have to go down the aisle together anyway.
Edie: . . . At your wedding, right?
Gretchen: Bingo. But consider it practice for the real thing. :)
Edie: I’m going to bed now. Thanks for being no help.
Gretchen: Anytime! Give me deets. Especially the filthy ones.
Edie: No deets. Night Gretchen.
Gretchen: Night!
Edie put the phone down, thinking. Should she go to Bianca and . . . talk? God, no. She shut the thought down the moment it crossed her mind. Bianca was . . . well, she thought every date was preparation for her future as a Trophy Wife. Despite being sisters, they had always had zilch in common. And even though Bianca was her assistant, sometimes Edie wondered if she even liked cats. She’d be no help. Bianca knew a lot about manipulating men, but when it came to simply dating one or having a conversation about normal things? She was no help.
She stared at her phone a moment longer. She needed a sign that dating Magnus was the right thing. That it wasn’t going to break her spirit into a jillion pieces once more to go out with a guy. Sleepy, her elderly white cat with three legs, came up and head-butted the phone, wanting to be petted. It pushed the phone forward, smacking Edie in the chin.
Well, that could have been a sign, she supposed. Steeling herself, Edie pulled up Magnus’s name, which she’d recently added to her contact list, and texted him.
Okay, I’ll bite. Where are we going on our date?
***
The text came across his phone at close to midnight, just when Magnus had climbed into bed. His phone buzzed on his nightstand and he picked it up, curious.
Okay, I’ll bite. Where are we going on our date?
Hot dog. He’d thought for sure that his kiss had scared her off. Magnus grinned to himself and contemplated his answer. Even as he did, Lady Cujo (as he was now calling her) jumped up on his bed. She mewed at him, and he automatically reached out to pet her, a little surprised when she allowed it, but pleased when she butted against his hand and demanded more. It was kinda cute. He petted her for a minute, and then picked up his phone again, studying the text. Then he answered.
Magnus: Want to do the dinner-and-a-movie thing or is that too cliché for you?
Edie: I guess we could do that. I just thought a guy like you would have more imagination.
Magnus: A challenge, eh? I will accept. All right, be ready for a slightly more interesting date.
Edie: Okay, where are we going?
Magnus: I’ll surprise you.
Edie: Shall I get Bianca to drive me down to NYC?
Magnus: Sounds like a plan. Tomorrow?
Edie: Can’t tomorrow , she texted back, which surprised him. How busy was a damn cat lady?
Magnus: When, then?
Edie: Day after tomorrow, maybe. I’ll let you know what my schedule looks like.
For a moment, it pissed him off to have to wait on a cat lady, and he nearly texted her back with a similar comment, like “I’ll let you know what my schedule looks like, too.” But he worked for himself, and his schedule was always more or less open when he was in creative mode. Plus, the sooner he got Levi back on track, the better. So he texted her back with Fine, just let me know .