Page 63 of Play for Keeps

The barroom hubbub hummed all around them, but in the few seconds following her outburst, Millie could only hear the low whoosh of her own blood in her ears.

Clearly taken aback, Avery sat up straighter on her stool. She tipped her head to the side like an inquisitive bird. “Pardon me?”

Mortified, Millie snatched her glass from the table and took a long, brain-numbing hit of the frozen concoction. “Never mind,” she rasped, pressing the heel of her hand to her forehead to quell the ache in her frontal lobe.

“Millie, are you trying to play by those idiotic dating rules or something? Because if you are, I think you messed up one of the crucial bits when you fucked him.”

Blinking her way through the ebb of the brain freeze, Millie gave her head a subtle shake. “I’m not playing any stupid games.”

“But you are keeping track of the number of condoms you’ve used?” When Millie didn’t answer, Avery searched her face as if she might find the answer to all Millie’s anxieties in her pores. But rather than teasing her, Avery pitched her voice low and soft. “If you’re worried about exhausting your supply, I could always lift a couple dozen on my next run through the health services building.”

To her horror, Millie nearly burst into tears at the offer. Though she managed to hold back, she did reach across the table to give Avery’s hand a squeeze. On the surface, they were as similar as chalk and cheese, but a good friend was a good friend. And a great friend was one who was willing to steal government-subsidized rubbers for you without batting an eyelash.

“No. Thank you,” she said, adding another squeeze of gratitude before taking her hand back. “The condom thing is just something I do.” She looked away, a little ashamed of what she was about to admit. “I don’t like to get too…involved. If I put a time limit on things or set up some kind of endgame—”

“The condom countdown is your out,” Avery concluded. “Out of condoms, and you’re out.”

“I don’t want to get too invested,” Millie said in a rush. The need to explain herself both peeved and overwhelmed her. “He’s younger than I am. He’s newly divorced. One day, he’s gonna want kids, and I can’t give them to him.” The justifications spilled out of her like milk from a tipped cup. “I see no point in either of us getting too attached—”

“Inyougetting too attached,” Avery interrupted. “You’re planning an out so you don’t risk actually, you know, falling in love with the guy.” She scoffed at the thought, then studied Millie narrowly. “I’ve got a thousand words to describe you, but I never thought ‘coward’ would be one of them.”

“I’m not a coward,” Millie retorted.

“Then be straight with the guy. Say, ‘Hey, Ty, I really like you, and the sex is super awesome, but I don’t want to have dinner with you because I’m scared you won’t like the way I chew. I can’t watch a movie with you because you might want to hold my hand. Oh, and mainly, I can’t fall in love with you because I don’t think I’m good enough for you.’”

“Bullshit.” The word fired out of her like a cannonball. “It’s not that I don’t think I’m good enough.”

“Then he’s not good enough for you?” Avery challenged.

“I’m not saying anyone is undeserving. We’re just two people at different places in their lives.”

“I’ll say.” Avery picked up the tumbler of scotch and tossed back its contents. “He’s in the dark, and you’re in denial.” She slid from the stool, plucked a wad of cash from a pocket hidden in the depth of her skirt, and tossed a few bills on the table. “You want my advice, Millie? Stop being a girl, and act like a woman. Tell the man what you are willing to give and what you want from him. If the two of you can’t come to some rational agreement without counting condoms and pretending you prefer Lean Cuisines to having dinner with the man, then end it now. Not only is ignoring his feelings a shitty thing to do to him and demeaning to yourself, it’s also an insult to everyone who is waiting for the chance at happiness you’re too chickenshit to take.”

Millie was struck by the flash of fury she saw in her friend’s eyes. She reached out and caught her arm. “Avery, wait—”

A sad shadow of a smile curved her friend’s lips. “We’re okay, Millie. Or we will be.” She pushed her wild mass of hair back with her free hand. “I just don’t know if I can listen to you throw away a chance at the thing some of us have been waiting for our whole lives.” She shook off Millie’s grip and ducked into the thick of the Saturday night crowd.

“Avery!” Millie called, but her voice was muffled by the crowd. It was futile.

Settling back to the table, she eyed her mostly untouched drink morosely. The daiquiri was red and thick and sickeningly sweet, the fruit skewer sticking out of the top unappetizing. She spotted Avery’s empty glass, and a coil of regret twisted inside her. Fishing a twenty from her wallet, she pursed her lips as she scanned the crowd for a likely looking lad. Spotting the boy who’d bumped into her earlier, she waved him over to the table.

The young man approached, his expression wary but disconcertingly hopeful. Stifling a sigh, Millie fixed him with a thoroughly patronizing smile. “Stand down, junior. I won’t be teaching you the ways of the world tonight.”

Hope and fear melted into utter confusion. “Ma’am.”

She held up the twenty. “If you get the nice lady a double Dewar’s straight up, you can keep the change for your piggy bank.”

The boy ran off with her cash, and she slumped the slightest bit. Avery was right. She needed to grow up and be honest with Ty about what she wanted from their relationship and what he might expect from her. When they were done, they’d be done. No reason she shouldn’t enjoy the ride until then.

She stared off into space, half wondering if Avery included herself in her statement about people waiting for a chance at happiness, and the other half worried her errand boy had made off with her twenty bucks, leaving her nothing but a fruity drink in which to drown her sorrows. She was reaching for the tall glass when someone slammed a highball down on the table beside her hand.

“Here you go!” her personal waiter exclaimed, clearly proud to have accomplished his mission.

“Thanks, sugar.” Taking the glass, she toasted him with it as he hurried back to his friends. Staring hard at the pungent liquor, she muttered, “Look me up when your beard fills in,” and downed the drink with a flick of her wrist.

Chapter 15

Ty hadn’t called Millie. He didn’t text, or email, or send up a smoke signal. He’d switched his phone off, both to save himself from temptation and because his ex-wife kept calling but hanging up without leaving a message. As much as he wanted to call Millie, he felt absolutely no compulsion to call Mari back. They’d said everything they needed to say to each other weeks ago, and what they’d said had been pitifully little. If whatever she had to say was important, she’d eventually give him a hint.

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