Page 44 of Hammered (Dad Bod Contracting 1)
Audra sighs. “I’d ghost on him.”
“Exactly.”
“But what if he ends up wanting something besides the same old same old with you?” She shrugs. “It’s not impossible. Maybe he’s just been waiting for the right one, and you’re it? How would he know if you’re it unless you try him out?”
I snort. “Try him out? He’s not a car, Audra, he’s a person. God, you’re so tactless sometimes.”
Audra props her feet up on the coffee table, crosses her arms under her breasts, and stares at the ceiling—I wait, knowing that this posture means she’s thinking through something she wants to phrase just right. Finally, she tucks her feet under her thighs and twists to face me.
“Okay, so answer me this: how long has it been since you’ve had really truly amazing sex? Not just okay married couple boring sex, but world-rocking, earth-shaking, hard-core fucking that you know you won’t ever forget?”
I have to give this some thought, and the answer that emerges is one I don’t like. “Lee, in college.” It comes out as a whisper.
“Never once with Nicholas was it like that?”
I shake my head. “No, not really. It wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t amazing. Not like that.”
She frowns at me. “So then…what was the point of being with him?”
I shrug. “It wasn’t that kind of relationship. It was comforting. Stable. Easy. The sex was good enough for the first few years, and while I knew it wouldn’t shake my world or anything, it was enough to keep me…not satisfied exactly, but not so dissatisfied I’d wander, I guess. Not that I ever would cheat—I’d have left him before I did that.”
“I think I understand that, to a degree.” Audra dishes herself more food as she answers. “And I mean, I know sex isn’t everything in a relationship, but I’ve never been interested in a relationship, and you know why. But it is an important part of things.”
“What does this have to do with Jesse?”
“I’ll get to that,” she says. “But first, another question. The first time you suspected Douche-Canoe was cheating on you, who was there to get you drunk, clean you up, and help you pick up the pieces?”
I blink hard. “You.”
“And when you found out for sure, who was there?”
“You,” I repeat.
“And when your divorce was finalized, who took you out for a celebration?”
“Audra—”
“Who was there for you, Imogen?”
“You, but—”
She takes my hands in hers. “So if you get involved with this guy, and you get in too deep and he ends up hurting you—which, I grant, is a possibility—do you really think I won’t be there to help you through it?”
“I know you will,” I whisper.
“Okay, so yeah, you stand a chance of getting hurt. You wear your heart on your sleeve and you get attached fast, I know this. And if this guy is a commitment-phobe like me, yeah, he could vanish on you if things get to a place he’s scared of going.” She taps her chest. “But if that happens, I’ll be there to do what best friends do—love you, and get you back on your feet, and make sure you don’t gain a million pounds through heartbreak eating.”
I laugh. “And you know I would.”
Audra isn’t done yet. “Next thing I want to say—You’re divorced, now. No kids—I know, I know, touchy subject, and I’m sorry—but it also means you have no commitments besides your job. Nothing holding you back from doing whatever you want. This is your chance to reinvent yourself, Imogen! It’s hard to not fall into the Real Housewives clichés about turning a new page and fresh starts and all that, because that’s really what you have now that you’re free from Douche-Canoe. You can do whatever you want! Be whoever you want. This isn’t a time in your life to let fear hold you back, this is the time to try new things, do things you would never do—” and here she taps my phone, sitting on my thigh, “—like sending topless photos to a hot guy you’re interested in. Be bold, be bad.”
“Look—after Nicholas, I’m afraid if Jesse hurts me, I’ll never recover, and I’ll die a lonely old maid because I’m too afraid to let myself find anyone.”
“That logic cuts both ways, babe,” she says. “Anyone you meet has the potential to hurt you. The only way to know if a relationship—whether it’s sexual or romantic or friendship—is safe and that you won’t get hurt is to give it a chance.”
“Which is why you’re the way you are?” I ask, the question pointed.
She winces. “Yeah, well…I’m great at giving advice, not so great at following it myself.” She sighs. “We’re talking about you, not me. And I’m telling you, as your best friend, as the person who knows you better than literally anyone on the planet, I’m telling you to go for it with Jesse. If it’s nothing but a one-night stand, great. You’ll have a night I doubt you’ll forget. If it ends up being more, even better. If it’s something in between, like just a temporary thing to scratch an itch you both have, that’s great too. There’s no wrong answer here. You have to move on, Imogen. Your marriage to Douche-Canoe was over a long time ago—the divorce was just the final nail in the coffin. This is your time. You’re not getting any younger, babe, so, you know…seize the day, and all that.”
