Page 85 of Best Served Cold

I wake up to the doorbell ringing. My first thought is that Rob has come back, and a giddy, stupid feeling fills my chest. It’s eight, half an hour before my alarm was set to go off. I slip on a pair of sweatpants and practically race downstairs to answer the door, tripping on the last step and catching myself on the banister. Good grief. I’m desperateanda klutz.

But it’s not him.

It’s Hannah and Briar, with a bag of pastries and a tray of coffees. Normally, I’d be happy to see my friends, but I can’t deny my mood deflates like a punctured balloon. I’d been hopinghewould be the one bringing me breakfast.

Then again, Rob and I had agreed on rebound sex and a fake relationship. I probably shouldn’t blame him for giving me exactly what I’d asked for. Or for not wanting me to wait on him last night.

It’s just…I’ve started to want more.

Hannah raises the coffee tray. “You have to let us in. We come bearing gifts.”

I yawn. “Isn’t it a little early for all of us?”

“Yes,” Hannah says, “and you’re entirely to blame for my lack of sleep. I’m as invested in your sex life as I would be in a terrible show on the CW.”

Briar just smiles and shrugs. “I wake up to do yoga every morning at six thirty, so I was already up.”

“I’m stunned that I don’t hate you.” Hannah nudges Briar with her shoulder, a small smile on her lips to show she’s joking.

It occurs to me that we all could have hated each other, like Rob said. We could have decided to be jealous, but instead we’ve built something beautiful.

“Come in,” I say, and follow them into the dining room.

They set their offerings on the table, and I grab us some of the scary eye dishes and napkins. Then Briar serves us each a muffin.

“Soooo,” Hannah says. “I hear that Rob was super-duper busy last night.”

“She’s been texting with Travis,” Briar says pointedly.

“Oh?”

“This isn’t about me,” Hannah says dismissively. “And I only asked for his number so I could get some intel about your boyfriend.”

“Fake boyfriend,” I correct, which feels strange when I can still feel the phantom ache of him between my legs, and hear the echo of his voice telling me to put those shoes on for him.

But I have to remember that Rob didn’t ask for any of this. Our fake relationship was my idea. Last night was a fluke. Just a thing that happened, which wouldn’t have happened if I hadn’t set the ball rolling.

I can feel my friends watching me, probably reading every expression passing over my face.

“Yes. Fake.Obviously,” Hannah says. “Did you give yourself fake sex hair too?”

I give myself away by self-consciously touching my hair.

“I told you,” Hannah says triumphantly to Briar, who nods.

“Look,” I tell them, glancing toward the stairwell to make sure Otis isn’t coming down. The last thing I need is for him to join in and tell them all about the strip of condoms I begged him for last night. “You’re the one who told me I should have rebound sex with him. It’s no big deal, right? I mean, it doesn’t have to be one. Lord knows, he’s probably slept with dozens of women. Maybe even hundreds.” I pause, dwelling on this thought, and feel my heart beating faster. “Do you really think it could be hundreds?”

If so, it probably meant nothing to him. It would be like flossing—a thought that’s horribly embarrassing.

Hannah laughs. “No. I don’t think he’s slept withhundreds of women, Sophie. Or at least Travis doesn’t think so. He says Rob’s always been a bit of a loner.”

“Gosh, how long were you texting with him last night?”

“Let’s circle back to you having rebound sex with Rob. How was it?”

“She doesn’t have to say,” Briar interrupts, glancing at me. Tugging on one of her long blond locks, she adds, “But I think we would both appreciate a general idea of whether it was good.”

I feel my cheeks heating up. “It was really good. Like, I feel like I didn’t really understand what good sex was until last night. I…” I dart a look at the stairs again, then whisper, “I wore my wedding shoes.”

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