Page 38 of Fireworks & Forehead Kisses

I glanced over to see where Big was, just to make sure that he wasn’t coming back and wouldn’t overhear the conversation. He was nowhere to be seen.

“Right before I went in, I found out that Garett and Jenny are having a baby and getting married.”

Her eyes widened to double their natural size. “Jenny, your best friend from home, Jenny?”

“That’s the one.” I’d told Fatima about her. I’d even had pictures of us up in the apartment.

“Oh, wow.” She wrapped her arms around me in a hug. “I’m so sorry.”

I pulled back and shook my head, not wanting to allow myself to fall back into the emotion of it all. “It’s fine. It’s my own fault. Well, sort of my fault. At least the timing is. Garrett’s been trying to get a hold of me for the past couple of weeks, but I was trying to be strong and wasn’t answering his calls because I thought he wanted to get back together. Anyway, more importantly,” I leaned closer to her and whispered, “did you happen to see the guy sitting next to me? Tall, dark, and sexy?”

She nodded. “Yeah, Mr. Wo?—”

“No. Don’t tell me his name. The bartender was going to say it, but he cut him off. He told me his name was Xavier.”

Her face scrunched in clear confusion. “He did?”

Aha, I was right. His name was not Xavier, just like my name was not Carrie. My gut told me that he’d made sure Lucas didn’t say his name and then given me a fake name. I figured if I was going to be an anonymous stranger having a one-night stand, I needed an alias as well. When I saw him and thought he was my Mr. Big, the first name I thought to tell him was Carrie.

“Yes. I don’t care that he gave me the wrong name. To me, he’s Big. I told him my name is Carrie.”

“Carrie?”

“Sex and the City.”

“Ohhhh, and Mr. Big. Got it.” A smile of approval lifted on her face.

“I just want to know two things.” I spoke quickly as I lifted my pointer finger in the air. “One, is he married or in a serious relationship?”

“No. Actually, he jus?—”

“Ah-ah,” I cut her off. “I don’t want details.” I lifted my middle finger to join my pointer. “Two, if I go upstairs with him, will I be featured on Dateline or 20/20?”

Her head tilted to the side like the RCA dog. “What?”

“Will Keith Morrison, Andrea Canning, or Josh Mankiewicz be doing a voiceover of the footage of us having a drink at the bar and then riding the elevator up to his room saying, ‘Would she have gotten on that elevator if she knew it would be the last time she’d ever be seen?’” I mimicked Keith Morrison’s signature deep voice and cadence to the best of my ability.

“What?” She chuckled. “What are you talking about?”

“Is he safe? Will he kill me if I go up to his room?”

“Oh, my god, no!” She gasped. “Sorry, that is justso farfrom anything he would ever do. It didn’t even occur to me that’s what you were talking about.”

“Oh, okay. Good.” I pressed my hand to my chest.

“But, um, I don’t think he would…” Her voice trailed off.

“You don’t think he would what?” I prompted, glancing over my shoulder again to see if he was on his way back—still no sign of him.

“He’s not really that kind of guy. I don’t think he’s interested in that. I’m not saying you’re not amazing… but I don’t think he’s the type of guy who would want to go upstairs and do…that.”

“You don’t?” Damn. Maybe I’d read this situation completely wrong.

Fatima wasn’t a hater. She was one of the most level-headed, sweetest girls I’d ever met. She was also very honest.

“Why not?”

She lowered her voice even more. “He’s just, um, he’s got?—”

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