Page 6 of Slow Kind of Love

Heather glanced at Elise. “A full carafe of your best pinot noir, please.”

Elise waited until the server moved away from them. After a morning relaxing in the spa, she and her bestie were enjoying lunch at the Blue Elephant, which was nearly full, with most tables occupied. “We’re drinking at noon on a Friday, are we?”

“This conversation needs something stronger than sparkling water.”

Elise didn’t get a chance to respond since their server appeared and poured them each a glass. Once she was gone, Heather took a sip and stared over the top of her wineglass at Elise.

“What are you afraid of?”

Elise grabbed up her glass, though she paused before bringing it to her lips. “I’m not afraid.” The wine was smooth. Oaky. Unlike tequila or whiskey, it didn’t burn the back of her throat.

“Again. Bullshit.” Heather set down her glass. “I’ve known you for most of my life, and we’ve shared things, said and done things together that I’d never do or share with anyone else. You’re my person. The one human on this planet who never judges. For God’s sake, you’re more than my best friend. You’re like family to me, Elise. Yet there are times when I feel like I don’t know you at all. Like I can’t figure you out, and it’s frustrating.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Anger thickened her words and made them sharper than she intended.

“It means that I want to help you. It means that you deserve all the good things in this world. Especially after your shit marriage to Ben and all the crap he pulled. We both know your marriage was over years ago, and though I’ll never understand why you stayed with that bastard, I accept that you did.” Heather leaned forward, her expression serious. “But Jesus, Elise, don’t you think it’s time you started living?” She held up her hand when Elise would have spoken. “No. I want you to listen to me. Volunteering at the senior support center isn’t living. Adopting a dog isn’t either. You have so much ahead of you. So much to offer someone. Life doesn’t end because you’re in your forties.”

“I never said it did.” Resentful, she nursed her wine.

“Then why are you acting as if it does? Why are you pushing Link away?”

Frustrated, Elise had to take a moment. “That’s where you have things all wrong. I never had him to keep close. We were nothing more than casual. God, we met on a dating app, and I didn’t even use my own name. He was never supposed to be more than that, and he knew it. Hell, it’s what he wanted too. It was just sex. Then he showed up in town and ruined everything.”

“But you like him,” Heather insisted. “I can tell when you talk about him.”

“Of course I like him. I wouldn’t have sex with a man if I didn’t.”

“So you like him and the sex was good.”

“The sex was off the charts,” she admitted, biting her bottom lip at the thought. An image of Link behind her, watching them in the mirror as he moved slowly inside her, brought more heat to her cheeks, and she furiously studied her plate.

“How far off, exactly?” Heather prompted.

Elise set down her wineglass and exhaled. “About as far as you can go.”

For a moment, the two women were silent, and then Heather looked at her pointedly. “What did he want when he came to see you?”

Her head shot up. “How did you…” But Elise’s words dried up at the expression on her friend’s face. Heather was no fool. With a sigh, she shrugged and glanced away. “He wants to pick up where we left off before he went to England.” She frowned and shook her head. “He wants more, actually. A lot more.”

“Damn,” her friend murmured. “So let me get this straight. Link Major wants you. He wants you naked in his bed, which means multiple orgasms because of the whole”--her friend finger quoted--“‘off the charts’ thing. He’s also funny and smart and loaded, with ties to the royal family, and I think I read something about him owning a castle in the English countryside. And he made People Magazine’s Sexiest Man Alive issue last year.” She frowned. “Or maybe it was the year before. Page forty-six, I think?”

“Heather—”

Her friend held up her hand. “No, I have the floor now, and you need to clear something up for me, because I don’t see what the problem is.”

“He’s fifteen years younger than me.”

“So?” Heather sighed with an incredulous look. “First off, you know that age is just a number. You’ve always had the youngest heart of anyone I know, with some damn good genetics on your side. I’m not pumping your tires or blowing smoke up your skirt when I tell you what you already know, which is that you look at least ten years younger than your actual forty-six. You’re in your prime. Age shouldn’t be an issue.”

Irritated, Elise blurted, “I have gray hair, Heather.”

Her friend sputtered and scrambled for a napkin, laughing as she shook her head. “Okay. What the hell does that have to do with anything? I know people in their twenties with gray hair.”

Elise was silent for a few seconds, her cheeks most likely the color of the strawberries in her salad. She leaned forward and lowered her voice. “I have gray hair down there.”

Heather looked confused for all of two seconds and then nearly spit out her wine before collapsing onto the table in laughter.

“It’s not funny.” Elise frowned and glanced around, aware they were drawing attention to themselves.

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