Page 140 of One Touch

I can’t wait for tonight!

We were heading out for cocktails later to a brand-new bar in Manhattan. Mary-Beth had just closed a six-figure deal for a manuscript and was taking me out to celebrate.

Why do you insist on texting me when you are three feet away from me?

Because there’s a wall between us!

It was about a second before Mary-Beth’s head popped around the door into my office. “Tonight’s gonna be awesome. I’m gonna get a drink with actual gold in it.”

“Gold?”

“Apparently, it tastes of nothing.”

“Mmm, my favorite.”

For a moment, I wondered how Ethan would react to the idea of drinking a flavorless, gold cocktail. I was instantly annoyedwith myself for thinking of him. For letting him become the context for everything in my life.

Mary-Beth frowned. “What’s up, Lils?”

“Nothing.”

“I don’t believe you.”

I sighed. “I . . . just miss some stuff about, you know, Bluehaven. Home.”

“Homesick, huh? I think what you need is some fun. Wipe out the memories of Nathan.”

“Ethan.”

“I know—I’m just being dumb. Joking. Not trying to upset you.”

“It’s okay. I don’t think that meeting someone new is going to help, though, MB. I just need a break. A real break this time. No men. No kissing. Just . . . gold drinks and fish eggs.”

Mary-Beth shrugged. “You just need to find the right person.”

“Ethan was the right person. The right person for me. But I wasn’t the right person for him.”

Mary-Beth’s eyes softened. “Which means he’s not the right person for you. And it also makes him very, very stupid.”

I laughed dryly. “You want to know the worst part? We were trying not to feel anything. Trying to keep things purely physical. And yet, I felt more for him than any other man I’ve ever been with. And with everyone else I was trying, desperately, hopelessly to feel something—anything. It was always so much effort. But with Ethan, it was as easy as opening my eyes.”

“You poor thing,” she said, walking over to me. “Listen, tonight we’re gonna— hey, wait! What’s that?”

Oh, shit. She’d spied my Kindle.

“Uh, nothing. Just . . . oh, how did that get in there?”

“You’re readingsmut, aren’t you?” Her eyes narrowed, her lips curled into a wicked smile.

“What? No! I’d never—”

“Spill the beans.”

I’d been caught red-handed. “It’s a Marge Statten.”

“Oh, my goodness, I’m going to tell her—this will make her day.”

“Don’t. Coco would kill me if she knew.”

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