Page 10 of Stolen Dreams

“Anyone catch your attention recently?”

“You already know the answer.”

Clarissa downs the rest of her wine, then holds the glass up until the bartender nods. “You need to date more. I worry about you.”

I roll my eyes. “No, you don’t.”

She spins the stem of the glass between her fingers. “All the heavy stuff we deal with, it’s important to take care of ourselves. And not just our mental health, but also our sexual health.”

As the last words leave her lips, a full glass of wine is deposited on the table.

My face flames with embarrassment. My skin undoubtedly sunburn red. Once we’re alone, I give her a pointed stare. “Can we pleasenottalk about my sex life in public. Ever.” My plea is more a statement than a question.

“Fine,” she says with faux exaggeration. “But you’re too young to become a recluse with hundreds of porcelain statues you talk to and call your friends.”

“I have plenty of actual people to talk to, so no need to worry.” I take a small sip of my wine. “Plus, I’ve told you, right now, work and family are my priorities. When I have a few more years of work under my belt, I may consider a romantic relationship.”

“But sex…” The word comes out a mile long. “How can you live without sex?”

Chuckling, I drop my gaze to the table and shake my head. “Believe it or not, it’s possible.” I squeeze her hand. “It’s called focus.”

“You’re so weird sometimes.”

I lift my chin. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Clarissa drinks half of her second glass before I get through half of my first. Her gaze flits between me and the guy at the bar. And if I’m honest, all this talk of relationships has killed my barely-there buzz.

When she finishes her second glass, I slide mine in her direction. “Here. Drink mine and go meet Mr. Anonymous.”

“But I want to spend more time with you,” she whines playfully.

“I love you, Rissa. But I need to call it a night.” I nudge my head toward the guy at the bar. “And if he knows what’s good for him, he’ll make your night much better.”

“Are you sure?”

I shoulder my purse and slide off my stool. “Absolutely.”

Clarissa hops off her seat and wraps her arms around my neck. “Love you.”

I laugh at her tipsy sentiment. “Love you, too. Get home safe, okay?”

She swipes up the wineglass. “I will.”

I kiss her on the cheek and head for the door. Before I exit, I peek over to the man at the bar and see a brilliant smile on his face. When my gaze shifts to Clarissa, her expression mirrors his.

One day, I’ll smile at someone like that. One day, I will find love. But not yet. Not until I’m ready.

TWO

RAY

“Where’s my salmon, Cam?”

“Coming, Chef,” Cameron hollers as she pivots away from the range, sizzling pan in hand, and rounds the pasta and salad stations for the plating area.

Bent over the marble top, I spoon pomegranate forbidden rice into a crescent-shaped mold on the center of the plate, packing it tightly before removing the mold. As I strategically lay green beans on an angle beside the rice, Cameron sidles up to me with the quinoa-crusted salmon filet.

Taking the thin spatula from her, I set the salmon atop the green beans. “Great work, Cam.”

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