Page 17 of Cascade

But Archer had to go and ruin it by trying to make it something more.

“Come to a party with me,” he whispered into my ear the last time, when I made the mistake of drifting off in his bed. I usually try to haul ass out of his place or else kick him the hell out of my bed so I can get back to my cat and my sleep.

But every now and then, we do something so intense, unleash a surge of pleasure so powerful, I need a moment to calm down.

“Be my date,” he said, dotting kisses down my arm. And then it felt intimate. Too real. A date comes with rules, with trust. I have none of that to offer, and have no idea how to go about identifying if someone else is trustworthy. I shook my head at him and walked home, and now I’ve been ignoring his texts and calls.

One person I have not been able to push away has been Indigo. I find myself on the verge of maybe trusting her and Sara, maybe letting myself be their friend the way they seem so openly and eagerly to be mine. Indigo dragged me along with her family to the Oak Creek May Day festival, and it was really nice to sip warm tea, watch the kids dance around the May Pole dressed in little fairy costumes.

Today, it’s less nice when she drags me to go outlet shopping. “What do you think of this one,” she asks, flicking open the fitting room curtain to reveal a super cute sun dress. The teal color pops against her olive skin and dark hair.

I study the neck line and bounce Gavin on my hip, pondering. “I am not sure you’ll be able to nurse him in that one,” I say, “but it looks so good on you.”

Indigo frowns. “The one time I want a stretchy, slutty neckline and everything is suddenly prim and proper.” She tosses a stack of dresses on the fitting room counter, all adorable but not suited for nursing a wee baby.

“How long is the party,” I ask, starting to calculate. “Does Gavin go a few hours between nursing now? He’s almost six months old. Aren’t you? Aren’t you, sweetheart?” The baby coos at me and drools on my arm as I bounce him in the mirror.

Indigo wanders around the shop, saying, “I’ve been wearing maternity stuff for over a year now. I want a real dress! But also I want to not have to get naked to feed my little lichen here.” She looks down at the teal dress and back at me. “You should get this one.”

“What? No way. I don’t need a dress, anyway.”

Indigo snorts. “You definitely need a dress. You’re coming to the party, aren’t you? To be there when Abigail and Hunter spill the beans?”

I hadn’t really thought Abigail was serious when she invited me to the dinner party they’re throwing for their family, plus Indigo and Sara and Hunter’s “science friends,” as Abigail calls them. And, evidently, me. “Well,” I begin, and then I can’t think of anything to say apart from a lame excuse about combing my cat.

Indigo yanks the dress over her head, not caring that she’s standing in the back of the store in her undies and nursing bra. “Get in there and try it on,” she says, scooping up Gavin and shoving me toward the dressing room. “I want to see it with your hair down!”

One thing I do appreciate about her is that she doesn’t give me much opportunity to second guess myself. By the time I’ve thought of a viable excuse not to try on the dress, I’m already busy following her instructions and she’s poking her head back in the fitting room.

“Yes!” She claps her hands. “Gav, doesn’t Miss Opal look amazing in that dress?” The shimmery fabric falls to my toes, clinging a little to my hips. My boobs look enormous against the halter-style neck, and I bite my lip as I shake my hair loose from the messy bun.

“Damn, Opal,” Indigo says with a wink. “You look hot as hell! I’m texting a pic to Sar.”

And she does, before I can argue with her. I spin around again to check how the dress looks from the back and I hear my phone buzz on the stool. Indigo bends over to snag it up and she cackles. “Ooh, Opal, you have been naughty!”

“What?”

“You’re ignoring Archer Crawford. Ooh, are you still banging him? This is fantastic. Diana will barf.”

“You just can’t quit pestering her about eloping, can you?” I laugh at the endless banter between the two friends. And then I get serious again.

“I don’t have room in my life for a relationship,” I tell Indigo, slipping out of the dress and back into my jeans and t-shirt. “I thought it could be casual with Archer, but now he wants me to be his date for—oh, crap. Indigo, the party. I can’t go. It’s his family. He wanted to introduce me to his family.”

Indigo sits on the stool and plunks Gavin on the floor, where he starts chewing on a plastic hanger. “First of all,” she says, “It’s a Crawford family party. There’s nothing intimate about that. Rose is going to grill you about giving guest lectures at the college for biology students or what have you, and Daniel is going to talk to you about what foods he should be cooking for Abigail. They’re going to be beside themselves about the baby and way too busy to care if Archer has a girlfriend.”

She must see my face turn green because she quickly changes course. “Not that you are his girlfriend! But what I’m saying is going to the party doesn’t necessarily signal that you might be. You know? Just come get tipsy with me and flirt with the computer science guys until Archer gets jealous. Then you can sneak out and have angry sex!”

That gets a laugh out of me. “I don’t know,” I tell her.

She cocks a brow at me. “Don’t make me make Sara sue you. She can legally obligate you to come, I’m sure of it. Come on. Help me find something I can wear so that Gavin can enjoy the party with me.” She tugs on my arm back out into the store. “I’m so excited that he will have a little friend to play with!”

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Opal

ABIGAIL DECIDED TO throw her party in the back yard, complete with a festive bonfire where the spark colors would indicate the baby’s sex. Except she and Hunter never could come to agreement about learning the baby’s sex, so I think it all just morphed into a backyard bonfire with beer and baby news.

I spend the entire morning of the big day calculating excuses why I should cancel and even find myself praying some of my clients will go into labor. It’s no use, and Indigo sends me at least 30 messages requesting, nodemandingmy presence.

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