“Basically, you’re not interested in challenging your opinion about me. Awesome.” My tone is drier than the plaster walls.
“You’re really bothered.” She says it quietly.
“It’s whatever,” I tell her. “I don’t even have time to date with this book deadline breathing down my neck. Must be the spoiled rich kid in me that wants to do whatever I want anyway.” Still so very dry.
She doesn’t say anything for several seconds. Then she reaches out to nudge the envelope. “Does that mean you don’t have time for this either?”
“You’re changing the subject.”
“Yes. But if you don’t want to open it …” She draws it toward her like she’s going to put it away.
I shoot straight up in my chair. “If you try to cut me out of this, I’m going to throw a fit for real.”
A glimmer of a smile flashes at me as she slides the envelope toward her. “All right, then. Let’s find out what Dear Heart and Smitten Kitten are up to now.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
Phoebe
“Let me get the letter opener.”I fetch it from my work bag on the sofa, using it as a cover to pull myself together.
I was eaten alive by jealousy all afternoon, torturing myself as I wondered what Jay and Lyra were doing. No matter how many times I tried to snap myself out of it, I couldn’t. I practically shoved him at her yesterday, and I had no right to be annoyed that he asked her out. It only proved all my judgments about him had been correct. I should have felt vindicated, not devastated. But I was. I was until he said it wasn’t a date.
The ugly feeling gnawing at my guts disappeared as soon as he did. Now, I’m almost floating.
Something strange has happened, and I’m trying to explain it to myself. I don’t think Jay came over for the letter. He wanted to seeme. This feels different. Intentional. I’m not simply an attractive woman he’s flirting with to amuse himself, wandering over to the big house when he needs a break from his book.
Why? Is this him escalating his strategy because he’s notused to hearing no? Some guys thrive on that kind of chase, but he seems genuinely frustrated by my opinions of him.
Jay Martin might want to date me for real, and not as a distraction because I’m convenient. At least, I’m sure he believes that’s what he wants right now.
My miserable afternoon showed me that despite all my resolve and self-talk, that’s what I want too. But it’s not what I need. Is it? No. Right?
I can’t figure this out when he’s right here at my table, but I owe him something, not an apology, but …
I return to the table, trying to think of how to bring back our easiness with each other. “I don’t understand my own head right now, but that’s not a good reason to act like a bad friend. I’m sorry.”
“A bad friend?” he repeats softly.
I shrug.
“Okay.” He scratches his neck. Sighs. “Okay. You were about to open the letter?”
I’m thankful he’s going to leave the big things alone for now, and I try to lighten the mood. “Should we do some sort of ritual to make sure it has lots of clues in it?”
“What do you have in mind? If we’re talking black candles or something, I’m out.”
“I meant more like crossing our fingers for clue luck, but that feels anticlimactic after black candles.”
He smiles and reaches out his hand, pinkie extended, and I hook mine around it because you never outgrow schoolyard training.
“I don’t know any good magic words,” he says. “You pick.”
I’m aware of every place his skin touches mine as we keep our pinkies connected. I can’t concentrate, so I do the first thing I think of. “O-O-O-O’Reiiiilly … Autoooo Parts.”
“Really?”
“It sticks in your head like a spell. You got something better?”
