Thirty-Seven
Nora
Tradition is tradition.
Would I rather be curled up in my chair with yoga pants and pints of ice cream? Yes. Yes, I would.
But it’s Sunday. And Sunday is brunch day.
It was designed exactly for times like this. Leave your troubles at the door and enjoy a round of drinks with friends. Forget about that problem in your life for an hour.
Forget about Clive Snow for an hour. I can do that. I can forget about his hands on my body and his voice in my ear and every little touch and caress of his lips. I can forget about the way my heart skipped when I saw him and how just one look into his blue eyes gave me butterflies for days and—
Yeah, it’s not working. I can’t do this.
Melanie snaps her fingers at me. “Stop that.”
I blink out of it. “Stop what?”
“You know damn well what.”
“I’m sorry.” I tear another corner off my toast but I don’t eat it. “I’m still feeling pretty raw, okay? My head hurts, my nose is sore, and I’m afraid if I drink anything my body will just send it right to my tear ducts.”
Trix nods. “You’re really rocking that sweater, though…”
I smile. “Thanks.”
“You’re gonna make it through this, Nora,” Melanie says. “I mean, if you really think about it, things could be a lot worse right now.”
“I know. You’re right. I could be fending off reporters over a huge data dump scandal. I could lose my company, my reputation.” I sigh. “You’re right. I just can’t get past something Clive said.”
“What’d he say?” Trix asks.
I stab the crust of my toast with my nail. “He said that night in New York was real.”
“Do you believe him?”
“I do,” I say, exhaling hard. “Was I too harsh?”
“No,”Melanie says. “He lied to you and tried to steal your stuff. That’s instant not-okay.”
Trix tilts her head. “Well…”
I raise a brow. “You disagree? Whatever happened to poor equals thief?”
“Okay, you know I’m not one to play the I told you so card, but I did tell you so about that one.”
“Acknowledged and accepted,” I say.
“But… I think I do disagree a little. I mean… Yeah, sure, he started out with some pretty cruddy intentions, but in the end, he did the right thing.” She shrugs. “That earns him some points in my book.”
Melanie shakes her head at her. “Your moral compass is all over the place lately.”
“It’s more like a pendulum, truth be told.”
“Okay…” Melanie sighs. “I’ll concur — reluctantly — that he’s not all bad. He did make you very happy for a while… or his penis did, anyway.”
“Yeah.” I chuckle. “He did.”