Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 97466 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97466 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
Shaken, I closed my browser.
Hugh had made no bones about being a romantic. He wanted passion and fireworks and forever, and I’d scoffed and said he was looking for a fairy tale. Seeing this though, I understood that Hugh wasn’t just hoping a nice guy would come along; he was actively dedicated to the fantasy. To the dangerous delusion.
Something inside me shriveled up at that knowledge, and my hindbrain blared a warning. Danger, danger.
My phone buzzed across my desk.
Hugh
Wow. Three months of silence followed by a business referral? Six out of ten. Zero suave points, but it warmed my cockles nevertheless.
I immediately pictured the teasing quirk of his lips and his eyes sparkling with challenge.
Fuck.
Oscar
Not a pickup line. (Though if it was, it would be a solid 10 and you know it.)
Hugh’s reply popped up before I could fully regret adding that last bit.
Hugh
Disagree. I know a 10 when I see one. Speaking of which, how is Frank?
I laughed out loud against my will.
Oscar
He’s living his best life. Just this morning, I found him enjoying an impromptu spa day in the guest room sink.
Hugh
Found him? This implies you lost him again, Oscar.
Oscar
He wasn’t LOST. Not exactly. He knew where he was the whole time.
Hugh
I’m going to require some proof of life, I think. Maybe you and Frank would like to come to dinner?
I tossed the phone down again and ran a hand over my face. There it was, the very reason I hadn’t made any contact with Hugh for weeks. Because I liked interacting with him a little too much, but interaction led to dinner invitations, which led to sex, which led to… “the melancholy.” Lesya’s stages of my relationships were nothing if not accurate.
Before I could think better of it, I grabbed the phone and replied.
Oscar
Afraid not, darling. I wouldn’t be able to enjoy the entree without fantasizing about dessert, and you are on a mission to find The One. If I’m in your bed, you’ll be too busy to keep looking for him. *wink emoji*
My screen remained frustratingly blank for several minutes. Lesya bustled into my office for a few signatures before returning to her desk. My office phone rang, but I ignored it.
The longer Hugh’s silence went on, the more I found myself wishing I could give a different response. Wishing there were a way that I could have him without falling into my usual pattern.
Hugh
I understand. I appreciate you being upfront about it.
I blew out a breath. There. That was an end to it. And the feeling nestled below my breastbone was not disappointment—definitely not. It was relief.
Hugh
But maybe we could be friends? Maybe even the kind who only exchange text messages.
I blinked at his text in confusion. It wasn’t so odd that Hugh should want to be friends, I supposed. I had lots of them. But in nearly every case, friendship was the consolation prize a guy and I settled on after we’d unsuccessfully tried to be something more. And aside from a select few men I trusted—Wells, Roman, James, my childhood sweetheart Boone—those post-relationship-friends were purely social ones, where we met up at parties to trade air-kisses and they hung me on their arms like a designer accessory.
Like most things with Hugh though, this felt different. New. Pattern-breaking. Risky, but the kind of risk that might pay dividends.
Oscar
Texting only? Is that an actual thing? No requests to meet up in person? No sexting each other nudes?
Hugh
If that’s what you’re comfortable with, why not? (I may send the occasional non-sexy pic. Photographer, remember? And pics of Frank are always encouraged. In fact, required.)
I felt my mouth hitch up.
Oscar
This isn’t about me at all, is it? It’s about your love affair with my hedgehog.
Hugh
Oh, thank god you understand. For a minute there, I was worried you’d think your shitty pickup lines were actually working on me.
Hugh
I didn’t want to be rude, ’cause you seem nice enough, but Frank and I had a real moment of connection under that table. I hope you won’t stand in our way.
I laughed out loud, and now the feeling in my chest actually was relief. I could have this. I could keep this. I wouldn’t be able to ruin it by turning it into something more.
I had no idea what we’d text about since I’d taken most of my favorite text topics off the table, but if Hugh was willing to try friendship… well, as he’d said, why not?
Oscar
Don’t tell him I said this, but Frank’s a terrible correspondent. It’s probably the lack of opposable thumbs. But yes, you and I can be text friends. In fact…
Oscar
Hugh
*cry-laugh emoji* Is that a terrazzo marble sink Frank’s lounging in? Who put those tiny cucumber scraps on his eyes?
That was a silly question, so I didn’t bother answering it. Instead, after a brief hesitation, I added: