Page 15 of Sticking Around

That’s right.

Brighton was right. You give advice but never take it yourself.

As I mentally debate with myself, the machine beeps, indicating my coffee is done, and I add a splash of milk before taking a big drink. “So good,” I murmur to myself just as my cell phone pings. I snatch it from my pocket. Brighton. I have no idea why I thought it might be Brady. I put my finger over the screen. Ugh. Do I tell her the truth? Of course, I have to, because the one thing in this world I hate is liars.

I smile to make sure my voice is cheerful. “Good morning.”

“Good morning to you too, Mel.” A pause and then, “So, how was last night?”

“That bed is so comfortable. I slept well.” Not a lie. I did sleep well when I finally did fall asleep.

“Really, that’s all I get?”

I chuckle, and walk up to the patio door. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Camryn yells something to Brighton in the background and muffled sounds come through the phone. A second later, she asks, “Is Brady there?”

“Nope.”

“Ah, darn. I was hoping you two would hook up.” I groan, not able to hold it in anymore. The truth is, I’m bursting to talk about him. Seriously, I just want to hear his name on my lips and that’s all kinds of crazy. “Ohmigod, you did, didn’t you? Did you wear the lingerie? Was he awesome?”

“Yes, and yes and yes, and why did you think Brady and I would be so good together?” Does she see something in Brady I don’t? If so, that would make me a terrible psychologist.

“You were, weren’t you?”

“I mean yes. The sex was amazing. I just don’t understand why you were playing matchmaker.”

Honestly, marriage has changed her for the better. She’s far more relaxed and so damn happy and I’m happy for her. Maybe even a bit envious. But marriage and relationships aren’t for me.

“Look you needed a break, and why not get with someone who doesn’t want more. Sex for sex, no strings.”

My stomach tightens with that. If there is one thing my childhood taught me, it’s that there are always strings. Always. Everyone wants something in return—I’m the prime example of that.

“Yeah. No strings.”

“I’m just saying I was once you, Mel. All work and no play. Look at me now. I couldn’t be happier.”

“I’m so happy with the way things turned out for you, Brighton. Just remember, it’s not like Brady and I are going to end up married, though, and please let’s just keep this between us. I don’t need anyone speculating when it’s just a fast fling.”

“I won’t, and I know it’s not serious, but why not have some fun with a guy who has been asking you out forever.”

“Right.” A sudden burst of unease cramps my stomach. “Actually, why do you think he’s been asking me out forever? He can have any girl he wants. Why me?”

“Why not you? You’re gorgeous, mature, got your life together, and maybe he’s tired of the bunnies.” I’m about to ask if she has evidence of that, and stop. I don’t need to go digging where I have no business digging. This is just a fling. “Where is he?” she asks.

“I don’t know. I woke up and he was gone.” I take a sip of coffee, and laugh.

“What’s funny?”

“He left me one of his hazelnut vanilla pods. Apparently, he orders them in from Canada.” She gives a low, slow whistle. “What?”

“Last night must have been spectacular.”

“It was, but why do you say that.”

“That coffee is a running joke. He won’t share it with anyone.” My heart beats a little too fast at that revelation. “He likes to jog in the morning, on the beach.”

“That’s nice,” I murmur, like his whereabouts don’t really matter to me. I hear Brighton chuckle and guess I’m not coming off as nonchalant as I’d hoped.

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