Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 64379 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 322(@200wpm)___ 258(@250wpm)___ 215(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 64379 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 322(@200wpm)___ 258(@250wpm)___ 215(@300wpm)
“And I told you, it isn’t lying, it’s withholding. And you can always decide to stop withholding at a later date, once the deed is done. That way she can’t freak out and get in her head about being your first, you can’t freak out and get in your head about revealing your status, and the two of you can fuck happily ever after. Or fuck until you find someone you’d like to fuck more.”
I sigh. “Fine. I’ll think about it. What time do we depart in the morning?”
“Nine thirty,” she says. “They open at ten.”
“Okay, but I have to be to work no later than eleven. We’re running fake dinner service tomorrow, and I have to be there to let the fishmonger in with the lobster delivery.”
Harlow hums low in her throat. “Yum. Lobster ravioli from Crave. You’d better not change that recipe. Whatever you guys do to it, it’s fucking amazing. I can’t wait until you reopen so I can spend money I don’t have on gourmet carbs. I enjoy ramen as much as the next girl, but every once in a while, I covet a fancy pasta experience.”
We discuss the new menu changes, I promise her the ravioli recipe will remain sacrosanct, and we watch a home renovation show featuring Canadians rehabbing old barns before Evie drags in from a long evening of bringing art to the troubled youth of Soho.
I make her an omelet to ease her ragged edges and then whip up two chai lattes for Harlow and myself. We sit around the kitchen table, chatting about the developments of the day, and I relish every minute of it.
We only moved in together seven months ago, but I can already feel this “living with our best friends” period of our lives slipping away. Evie and Harlow are both in long-distance relationships that I’m sure they’ll want to make not long-distance before too long, and I have no doubt that Jess is going to find someone great as soon as she has time to date again.
We’re transitioning into a new phase of our lives, coupling up and moving away from the focus on the friend bonds that have sustained us for so long. And that’s natural, normal, and honestly, something I’ve wanted for a long time. I love and appreciate my friends, but I’m ready to find my partner, my One, the person who wants to be on my team for life.
But despite assurances from my friends that I’m “the complete package,” I can’t seem to lose my virginity, let alone start another relationship. So, maybe it’s time to give Harlow’s suggestion some serious consideration. Maybe withholding a few things is okay, as long as I plan to come clean later.
I’m still rolling the idea over in my head while I’m brushing my teeth when another text from Natalie pops through on my cell—I made your peach and goat cheese cobbler recipe for dessert tonight and DEAR LORD, MAN! So good. So crazy, insanely good. I’m going to crave it fortnightly until the day I die.
Grinning, I text back—Good to hear. So, my job is safe?
Bubbles fill the screen and then—Absolutely. Though I AM worried about other owners realizing how talented you are and trying to poach you from my staff. I may have to lock you in a cage in the basement of the restaurant to keep you safe from the competition.
As long as you feed and water me regularly, I guess that’s okay, I shoot back. And come visit me every once in a while.
She sends over a raised-eyebrow emoji. Should I be worried about you, Cam? You just agreed to be my recipe prisoner way too easily.
I bite my lip, debating my next move for a beat before trusting my gut and texting, Well, I assumed it would be a beauty and the beast situation. You’d lock me up, but pretty soon you’d be so smitten with me and my delicious food offerings that you’d be compelled to set me free.
I’m a little offended that I’m the beast in this situation, she replies. But I do like the idea of having you at my mercy. Too bad the restaurant doesn’t actually have a basement.
We have one in my apartment building, I shoot back. If you want to come back to my place after the gala, we can role-play. There aren’t any cages down there, but the corner where the superintendent stores the Christmas decorations is pretty creepy. Lots of spiders and it smells strongly of cat pee no matter how many times the janitor mops the concrete.
Her laughing emoji is followed by, Cat pee and spiders and role-playing, oh my… Watch out, mister, or I might just take you up on that offer. My nanny is sleeping over on Friday. I won’t have a curfew for the first time since I moved to New York. Things could get wild…