“Bummer.” She scrunches her nose. “But it doesn’t make me any less proud.” The corner of her lips turns upward in a knowing smile.
She knows about my situation. Well, she knows what happened to me, but she doesn’t know the chain of events that took place for it to happen. No one does. But she’s aware of my nightmares and my fears. In fact, she’s one of the only people who actually know about them.
We met in an online book club five years ago and seemed to instantly click. At the time, everything was still so fresh. My nightmares came often, and I was having a hard time accepting them. It turned out she was also going through a rough patch.
Josie was born in a small town in Arkansas. It’s the kind of town where everyone conformed to certain beliefs, and no one was allowed to show any type of original thought. They couldn’t contain her creative nature. She has too much personality for the small town to handle. Because of this, the locals weren’t exactly kind to her, always treating her with prejudice simply for stepping out of the stereotype they had written in stone as law. Colorful clothes, crazy makeup, and big hair—she always had a distinct style.
I’ve always been jealous of how she’s embraced her uniqueness with unfettered confidence. She was my opposite, and opposites attract.
Since moving to New York City, she’s surrounded herself with people who love the same things and have the same free spirit. She’s finally been able to beherself.
We met—online via chat, as most people seem to do nowadays—the first year there, and we’ve been inseparable ever since.
“So, who’s the stud?” Her brow lifts as she eyes me.
My eyes narrow. “How do you know he’s a stud?”
“Please, I’ve been to Maine.” She rolls her eyes. “Everyone there is a stud. All flannel-clad hairy men with big muscles from chopping wood all day to keep their houses warm. They all definitely know how to use their giant, sexy hands.” She closes her eyes, pure bliss flittering across her face as she enjoys the image.
I can feel my eyes start to bug out of my eye sockets. She’s not wrong. Mark is both hairy and sexy. A warm shiver tingles at my thighs.
“Well, yeah, he’s super attractive.” My cheeks heat.
“Book boyfriend attractive?” she asks, waggling her brows.
I sigh dreamingly. “Yeah,” I confess.
“Ahh!” She squeaks. There’s a mumble in the background, and Josie turns to flip them off before returning her attention back to me. “Talk about Maine; I have a big job in Portland in a few months and was thinking maybe it’s time we meet up.” She glances to the side, looking shy all of a sudden. I’ve never seen Josie shy, ever.
“Portland? As in Portland, Maine?” I feel a nervous pinch in my chest.
“Well, yeah. A big-shot developer I’ve worked with in New York just bought an old house there and is planning to completely remodel it. I’ll be spending a few months gutting the place, and I was wondering if maybe we could meet up for a coffee or something.” She pushes a lock of hair behind her ear. I become all too aware of how her cheeks have pinkened.
Josie is a popular interior designer whose calendar is booked for the next two years. It must be someone close to her if she suddenly made room for them, unless she’s known and didn’t say anything to me.
“Do you think it’s weird?” She bites the inside of her cheek, looking unsure.
“Are you insane?” I roll my eyes. “It’s about time. I want to meet you in person before you’re an age you’ll need to wear diapers. Again.”
Josie snorts. “I was at Times Square when the ball dropped last year. Let’s not talk about diapers.”
“Fair enough.” I giggle.
“All right then. I gotta run now, but I’ll—” A loud bark interrupts us, and Josie whips around to face me again. “What the ever-loving fuck was that?”
I flip the camera again. “That’s Ghost, my new friend.”
“Did you get a dog and not tell me?” She rears back, sounding offended.
“I’d never do that to you!” I bring my hand to my heart, making her chuckle. “It’s Mark’s dog.”
“The hot neighbor?” She rolls her lip inward, trying to suppress whatever’s clearly on her mind.
“Yeah, that’s him.” I nod, walking over to Ghost. He lays on the couch with his posture straight, front paws hanging off the front.
“So, the guy’s a dog dad. Does he wear flannels?”
I scour my memory but can’t remember if he has. “Actually, so far, I’ve only seen him in pants.”
