Page 5 of So Much More
Leslie holds up a finger. “Wait a second. I’ll be back.” She’s out the door before I can ask where she’s going.
Two minutes later she reappears with Randall on her heels. As soon as the door clicks shut behind him, she says, “Now that you’re both here, you can decide together whether Wendy is allowed to break her promise to not tell me about what’s happening here.” She points her finger back and forth between the two of us.
Randall’s eyes widen and he shoots me a beseeching look.
“Sorry,” I say. “She figured out something’s going on. I didn’t say a word.”
With quick flicks of his long, slender fingers, Randall unbuttons his suit jacket, drops his tall frame down onto the lavender couch in the corner of my office, and rests his elbows on his knees. I take a second to admire the forearms peeking out from his sleeves and the way his charcoal-gray pants stretch over the thighs I’ve curled up on so many times.
“Go ahead and tell her.” His words draw my attention up to his mouth, which doesn’t help me be any less distracted by him. “Now that she knows something, you know she’s not going to let it go.”
I tear my eyes from Randall and focus on Leslie. “We cuddle.”
“You c-cuddle.” She looks between the two of us in disbelief. “Is this a joke?”
“Nope.” Randall pops the “p” in the word as he props one ankle on the other knee and makes himself comfortable on the couch. The sight, unsurprisingly, makes me want to rush over, plant myself on his lap, and snuggle up against him. I’m as predictable as Pavlov’s dog.
“We cuddle,” he says. “That’s it. She’s my cuddle buddy.”
Leslie is speechless.
“No, that’s not completely accurate,” I say. “We also talk.”
Randall bobs his head up and down like a plastic dog on a dashboard. “True. We sometimes talk. While we cuddle. Other times we just cuddle.”
“Stop saying ‘cuddle.’ It’s weird,” Leslie says. “What do you talk about?”
“Life,” I say.
“Family stuff,” Randall adds.
“Work.”
“Our feelings,” he states matter-of-factly.
Leslie’s jaw drops. “Yourfeelings?About what?”
“Colleen,” he says.
“Life,” I repeat.
“You and Ash,” Randall says to her.
“Really?” I ask him. “You’re telling her that?”
He shrugs. “Why not?”
“You don’t tell people you talk about them behind their backs!”
Leslie’s hands go to her hips. “And exactly what are you saying about us behind our backs?”
“That you’re perfect for each other,” Randall explains, “and seeing you together makes us both want what you have.”
“Seriously?” I ask him.
He spreads his hands wide. “What’s wrong with admitting that? It’s true, and there’s no shame in it.”
“He’s not wrong,” Leslie tells me.
