Page 120 of Rules Of Engagement: St. Louis
“You’re right about that.”
“I can hear you,” I said, reaching for my iced tea.
Frankie and Journey glanced at each other, their voices going even lower. “She can hear us.” They smirked, and I rolled my eyes.
“So, now that we have your attention,” Frankie said, leaning forward with her chin propped on her palm, “tell us, please, how’s it going between you and Christian?”
I set down my fork, realizing I’d been pushing my Greek salad around my plate for the past ten minutes without takinga single bite. My mind had been thousands of miles away, back on that sailing yacht in Sicily, watching the sun set over Mount Etna while Christian held me against his chest. I couldn’t believe it was over so soon, and I yearned to be back, but I also couldn’t believe this was real.
“It’s going well,” I said, trying to sound casual. “Really well.”
“Really well?” Journey raised an eyebrow. “That’s all we get?”
“What do you want me to say?”
“Details, girl,” Frankie said, waving her fork for emphasis. “We’ve been sitting here for thirty minutes watching you daydream with that dopey expression on your face. Something good happened.”
I sighed, unable to fight the smile that spread across my face. “I took him to Sicily this past weekend.”
“Sicily?” Journey’s eyes widened. “As in Italy?”
“Yes,” I swooned. “And I thought Tuscany was romantic, but no, Sicily definitely topped it. It was the most romantic weekend of my life.”
Frankie dropped her fork with a clatter. “Hold up. You took a spontaneous trip to Italy and didn’t tell us?”
“I surprised him with it. He’d mentioned wanting to go back there, so I planned the whole thing myself.”
“Look at you being all romantic and spontaneous,” Journey said, full of pride. “I’m so happy for you, Naomi.”
“It was everything. He makes me want things I swore I’d never want again. Sunday dinners with his family, lazy mornings in bed, a future that includes someone else’s dreams alongside my own.”
Journey reached across the table and squeezed my hand. “Those are beautiful things to want.”
“They are. And that terrifies me.”
“Why?”
I stared down at our joined hands, trying to put words to the fear that had been growing alongside my love for Christian. “Because the last time I wanted things like that, I ended up broken and alone and convinced I was foolish for believing in fairy tales.”
“Christian isn’t Gerald,” Frankie said sharply.
“I know that too. But knowing it in my head and believing it in my heart are two different things.”
“What does your heart tell you?”
“My heart tells me that Christian is everything I’ve ever wanted. He’s kind and patient and loves me like my father loves my mother.”
“So what’s the problem?”
“There’s no problem. Everything is going great. Amazing, really.”
“But what?” Journey asked.
“I haven’t said but anything.”
“Yes, but there is a but, isn’t there?”
I didn’t respond, only stared into the salad on my plate.
