Page 108 of For Eva

“Yes, I am, in fact,” she said, not missing a beat. “Dying to fucking know what happened with you and Eric last night.”

I shook my head at her, as if she could see me. “No Happy New Year? How are you doing? How are the boys?”

“Happy New Year, how are you and the boys?”

“We’re—”

“Enough small talk. Tell me aboutEric!”

“Okay, okay. Hold on.” I pushed myself up and carefully climbed backward down the stairs, folding them up and shutting the hatch before padding down the hallway into my bedroom. I closed the door and propped myself against the headboard of my unmade bed. “All right, crazy lady. What do you wanna know?”

“Only fuckingeverything. What did you wear? I bet you looked hot. Didhelook hot? Did you guys make out? Did you sleep together? Oh my God, you slept together, didn’t you?”

I laughed and slapped my hand over my face, which turned warm at the thought. “No, we didnotsleep together. What the hell? It was the second time I’ve seen him in almost twenty years. And I have two children in my house.”

“You could’ve gone back to his hotel.”

“Denise.”

She sighed. “Okay,fine. No sex. But did you at least kiss?”

My cheeks flamed, the memory of his lips moving closer to mine flashing in my mind. “No. We didn’t. But I…”

Shut up, Eva.

“But you what?”

“I think we almost did. I don’t know.”

Why, why,whydid you say this?

“Eva! What do you mean you ‘don’t know’?”

I squeezed my eyes shut. “I think he was going to kiss me, and I kinda hugged him instead. Maybe he wasn’t, though. I probably just imagined it. Why would he wanna kiss me when he could kiss some twenty-five-year-old with a hot body and no kids?”

I heard what sounded like a hand slapping a counter. “Probably because he’s wanted to since you guys sat on a fucking rooftop in God-knows-where. You know, the time he wrote an entire hit song about?”

“We don’t know if that song was about—”

“Oh, it totally was. And maybe one day he’ll confess that to you. But for now, believe what you want and tell me about the rest of your date.”

“It wasn’t a date.”

Was it a date?

“Fine. Tell me about the meal you ate with yourfriend.”

I could almost see her eyes roll through the phone.

“It was good,” I said, trying to remain stoic. But the images of us talking and laughing over the candlelit dinner and in the car on the way home tugged at the corners of my mouth so hard I had no choice but to give in. “Actually, it was more than good. It wasreallygood.”

She squealed, causing me to chuckle and hold the phone away from my ear.

I grabbed the throw pillow to my side, squeezing it against my chest. “I felt like my old self for the first time in forever, Denise.”

“Oh, babe, I’m so glad. You deserve that. You deserve that so much.”

“Thanks,” I said. “The year did end better than it started.”

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