Page 3 of Trustfall
“That ship has long sailed, and you know why.”
“Lily—”
“Oh, and you’re one to talk, huh? Those Fisher twins are two peas in a pod, Ari, but I don’t see you getting all cozy with Jameson, do I now?”
“That’s because he’s a manwhore.”
“Says you.”
“My eyes and ears work perfectly, thank you very much. Besides, how would you know? Unless my best friend has broken girl code and made a trip home that I’m unaware of?”
“You know I haven’t.”
A heavy silence fell over us.
“Speaking of men, have you thought about giving the dating app another try?” she asked.
I toyed with one of the ornaments on the Christmas tree beside my couch.
“Kind of, although I’m still scared, not looking to be love-bombed again anytime soon.”
“I’d like to believe that was a weird one-off.”
“Yeah, me too because that guy had psycho written all over him.” I scoffed.
“I’m just thankful he couldn’t reign in his true colors long enough to fool you; I mean, who buys someone a diamond necklace on the second date?”
“It probably had some sort of tracking device in it.”
“Right,” she said, tilting her head with an arched brow, her tone laced with sarcasm. “Could you imagine?”
“No, but also yes. He wasn’t exactly subtle about his intentions. From the start, his compliments were next level—almost over the top—and his affection? It was way too intense for someone I barely knew. He was relentless, and honestly, I have zero clue why I even agreed to see him again after the first time. Clearly, my judgment was off, and he took advantage of my weak moment.”
“Just from what you told me, he gave me the heebie-jeebies.” She shivered.
“You and me both. So, changing topics, Tara, Greer’s wife, stopped by the station today and asked me to photograph the first responders for the calendar this year.
“You’re serious?” Her eyes widened in disbelief, her mouth slightly agape.
“Yep.” I enunciated thepwith a pop before taking a heavy sip of my wine.
“Don’t do that; this is exciting news.” Lily smiled enthusiastically back at me.
“It would be if you knew who wasn’t involved.”
“Oh,” she pursed her lips, “what month is he?”
“Guess.”
“Gosh, I don’t know, June?”
“No, his name was the last drawn out of the hat, which means?—”
“He’s your favorite month.”
“Exactly! Why must he always be a dark shadow looming over my shoulder.”
“Just grab a celebrity magazine from the grocery store and cover Jameson’s head with another guy. That way, you can still drool over his eight-pack.”
