Page 61 of A Very Happy Easter

“And the rest. I’m so glad you finally found a good one, babes.”

“Me too. Speaking of good ones, have you spoken with Annabel? I texted her yesterday, but she hasn’t replied.”

“No doubt she’s drowning her sorrows with her new bestie, Rebecca.”

“Really? They’ve become that friendly?”

“Oh yeah. They were in Black’s last night, dancing on the table and singing ‘I Will Survive.’ They’re taking the whole ‘men are assholes’ thing pretty seriously.”

Black’s was one of London’s fanciest nightclubs, although I’d only been there once and hated it. Having claustrophobia on the dance floor and a panic attack in the toilets wasn’t my idea of a fun evening.

“Did they get kicked out?”

“No, they got free drinks. Although honestly, I can’t totally blame Crawford. Rebecca’s gorgeous. If I didn’t have a boyfriend, I’d be tempted.”

“I didn’t realise you were into women.”

“Isn’t everyone a little bit?”

“No?”

If I were, that would have made my life so much easier.

“Are you sure?”

“Yup.”

Kirsten scrunched her lips to one side. “Huh.”

I gave her a hug. “I’m going to leave you to ponder your hot-girl thoughts. Good luck tomorrow.”

Whew. Thank goodness that was over. I rescued Heath from Milquetoast and slipped my arm around his waist. It was becoming so much easier to do that now, and he didn’t seem to mind. In return, he wrapped an arm around my shoulders.

“What did you think?” I asked him as we headed to the exit.

“I think internet shopping is more my thing, but those pastries with the glittery cheese tasted okay.”

“The twenty-four-carat glitter?”

“Are you kidding?”

“Nope.”

“Damn, so I’ll be shitting gold tomorrow?”

“Yup.” I bumped him with my hip. “Do you fancy having dinner?”

“With you?”

“No, I thought I could drop you home with a Happy Meal. Of course with me.”

Jokey Heath turned serious. “I’ll always have dinner with you, Edie. You know that.”

Did I? We’d started off with firm boundaries in place, a purely transactional relationship. But now those boundaries were getting blurred, and…I didn’t hate it.

“Italian?”

“I’ll eat anything. Except frogs.”

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