Series: Willow Winters
Total pages in book: 13
Estimated words: 11536 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 58(@200wpm)___ 46(@250wpm)___ 38(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 11536 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 58(@200wpm)___ 46(@250wpm)___ 38(@300wpm)
Yet my nerves rattle as my gaze moves from Marlena’s gray sweats and white tee to Lauren’s silk blouse she’s still got on from work, to Gemma’s cotton sundress. I’d rather look at their clothes than their eyes while I debate on keeping what happened yesterday a secret.
“Is it something bad?” Lauren’s tone turns concerned.
“No, no, no,” I answer quickly before gulping down the last bit of sangria and deciding to just do it. To tell them what happened.
“You remember Bennet, right?” I say.
Marlena’s eyes go wide before she shrieks with glee. “I knew it! You got laid!” Heat floods my cheeks. “Nuh-uh,” Lauren says doubtfully but when I don’t look back at her and attempt to have another sip only to find the etched glass empty, she gasps. With a light slap on my arm, she says, “You didn’t?”
For a very small moment, I don’t hear the humor or the happiness of a friend excited for another friend. I hear an ounce of dread or betrayal, like we’re all back in high school and I just slept with Pamela’s ex.
Lauren’s next comment erases those thoughts just as quickly as her gasp put them there. “He is so freaking hot.” She adds, “When did he even get back to town?”
“He came in last week or the week before I think.”
I nod along as Gemma answers and work on calming my racing heart.
“And you and him banged?” Lauren asks.
“Banged?” A deep crease settles in her forehead as Marlena looks at Lauren and asks, “Who calls it ‘bang?’”
“The horizontal tango, scratched an itch, fornicated, fooled around, went all the way—who cares what you call it? There are only two questions that matter,” Gemma states, gathering our attention as the sun sets a little deeper and she stares at me with a serious expression. “One, was it good, and two, how big is he?”
Lauren and Marlena howl and I have to laugh at the ridiculousness.
I bring my empty glass up to my lips as if I could hide behind it but then hold it with both hands in my lap. I’m already in my pajamas because I have every intention of climbing into bed the moment I waddle my tipsy butt back to my house.
I tell them, “It was good and,” my smile grows as I add, “he is very blessed.”
Another round of shrieks and laughs consumes the porch and this time Miss Margaret, an older woman who takes long walks around the block in the evening, hears us as she’s walking past. I catch her eye just as she’s staring at us while shaking her head in mock disappointment, but she’s smiling the entire time. Margaret keeps it moving in her joggers and I give her a wave, letting the warmth run through me.
“He’s the one Pamela dated, right?” Gemma asks and Marlena nods as she replies, “For a few months, I think in eleventh grade?”
“We don’t need to talk about her right now.” Lauren cuts off their conversation as they remember all the details they can about Bennet. “Pamela has a husband and a third baby on the way. She got her happily ever after and now it’s time,” Lauren looks back at me, “for Aubrey to tell us exactly how big he is.”
Her joke breaks up the small bit of tension that’s brewing in the pit of my stomach.
The secret is out, and nerves prick their way down my shoulders.
“Yesterday he came over, I just got out of the shower, looked a mess … then some things just … happened.”
“He’s working for Stew, right?” Gemma asks and I nod.
“So he came over to unclog your pipes?” Lauren jokes and then she laughs, but Marlena doesn’t take her eyes off me.
“So you saw him just yesterday and you two hit it off?” There’s no judgment there, but there is a note of worry in her tone. Like it’s a recipe for disaster.
“Yup,” I answer and set the glass down before crossing my legs on the porch swing and readjusting.
Lauren keeps it rocking and asks, “Was it a fling?”
“I don’t think so,” I say.
“So you like him,” Gemma teases and my smile comes back.
All I can do is nod. I really, really like him. I don’t tell them we stayed up last night talking until the early morning. I don’t tell them he brings back butterflies and all kinds of hope I haven’t had in years.
“So … are you two dating then?” Marlena asks, her smile ready to widen. The moment I answer, the girls squeal with delight and I’m forced to smile and feel at ease.
“I think so.”
AUBREY
An editor doesn’t need to wear a lace bralette and high-waisted, wide-legged pants. She certainly doesn’t need to wear heels in her own home after all the meetings of the day are over. Not that I wore this getup for the meetings. My heel tap, tap, taps as I sit perched on the bottom step, waiting for the knock at the front door with my phone in my hands.