Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 89265 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 446(@200wpm)___ 357(@250wpm)___ 298(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89265 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 446(@200wpm)___ 357(@250wpm)___ 298(@300wpm)
“Glad to hear it. I didn’t think Buzz ever got it up.”
“Goodbye, Emme.”
“Kidding, kidding,” she said. “I know, ‘different relationships work for different reasons.’ I don’t need the lecture again.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, I have it memorized.” She cleared her throat and parroted my voice. “Sex isn’t everything. It’s not love or intimacy or even going to last.”
I had to smile at the perfect imitation. “Exactly. Trust me, Emme, after years of counseling couples, I truly believe that the most enduring relationships are those built on more than physical attraction. It has to start with your head and lead to your heart.”
But over at the bar, Fear of Rejection’s legs were crossed seductively and one high heel was dangling from her toes. Too bad that bartender couldn’t see it.
“But what about your body?” Emme pressed. “What about desire?”
I finished my wine and straightened up in my chair. “Desire, while thrilling, is unstable, unpredictable, and uncontrollable—a leftover biological impulse from our caveman days to remind us to propagate the species.”
“Jesus. Only you could make sex sound so unsexy. Are we even related?”
“Sometimes I wonder.” Although my sisters and I all had our mother’s blond hair and blue eyes and our dad’s cleft chin, we had very different personalities. I was the shy, analytical bookworm; Emme was the heart-on-her-sleeve romantic; and our youngest sister Maren was the soulful flower child. It was amazing we got along as well as we did.
“Maybe you’ve never had good sex,” Emme suggested.
“I’ve had good sex,” I snapped, a little too loudly judging from the looks I got from surrounding tables. I lowered my voice. “I just don’t think it’s the most important indicator of compatibility.”
The truth was, I had my best sex with the trusty LELO rabbit I kept locked in a box beneath my bed (LELO and I were very compatible). I found it too hard to relax with a man. I had difficulty getting out of my head and letting myself enjoy it.
In fact, I’d never had an orgasm during sex—I’d never even faked one.
But I didn’t want to get into that with Emme, who had zero sexual insecurities whatsoever. “Look, I have to go. I don’t want to be on the phone with you when he gets here, especially talking about this.”
“Fair enough,” she said. “Enjoy your birthday dinner, and call me as soon as you can. Are we still on for brunch in the morning at Mimi’s? I have your birthday present.”
“Sure.” Every Sunday for the last couple years, my sisters and I had brunch together. Maren had moved to Portland with her fiancé in August, but Emme and I had kept up the tradition.
“Good. I need help with the seating chart for the reception.”
I suppressed a groan. Emme was three months pregnant and getting married next month, and lately our brunches had been totally consumed with wedding and baby stuff. Since she was a wedding planner herself, she was obsessive about the details. But working on the seating chart was preferable to arguing about the importance of sex. And maybe I’d have something romantic to celebrate too, for once. “No problem. See you at ten.”
We hung up and I checked the time—quarter to eight. I took a deep breath. I ordered more wine. I glanced at the bar. Fear of Rejection was laughing out loud and tossing her hair now. The cute bartender was transfixed. For someone who’d seemed so shy, she was actually a pretty good flirt—much better than me.
But then, who wasn’t?
While I drank my second glass of wine, I paid close attention to the redhead’s body language. Maybe I’d try the hair toss later. It wouldn’t kill me to be a little more feminine, a little more flirty. Maybe if I acted more sensual around Walter, I’d feel more sensual. Maybe I’d even want to get a little closer to him.
I mean, was he God’s gift to women? No, but I wasn’t a perfect 10 either. And he was educated and successful and kind. He respected me. He’d be a good father and a supportive husband. So what if he was a little uptight and unexciting? He was a smart, safe choice. Perfect for me.
And I was a good choice too, wasn’t I? I had a graduate degree and a good reputation in my field. I was independent and never clingy. I listened to his endless bee stories. He was thirty-six already. Both of us had talked about wanting a family, so wasn’t this the next step?
Kids mean sex, Stella. Are you ready for that?
I glanced down at my blouse and spontaneously undid the top two buttons. It made me feel a little exhilarated, a little naughty. I crossed my legs and let one nude high heel dangle from my toes. I ordered a third glass of wine.
I was nearly done with it and enjoying a pretty good buzz when I felt a hand on my shoulder.