Page 59 of Let's Kiss and Tell

“She’s lovely, isn’t she?” I say.

“I seriously don’t know what I would’ve done without you. I can’t lie in front of everyone at the wedding. I could barely lie to Dani, and I hate her.”

“Practice makes perfect,” I say rubbing his back. “Did you see the look on her face when I told her I write about sex?”

“Yeah, she and Julia aren’t necessarily the most…easygoing people.”

“What do they do for work?” I ask.

“Dani’s in accounting,” he says, and that checks out. “Julia’s an elementary school teacher.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah,” Marsh says. “Why?”

“God, Marsh, that’s like the most wholesome job you could ever have! No wonder Dani was caught off guard by my articles. You used to date a nun.”

“She is far from a nun, believe me.”

“Fine, it’s just…hard to compete with that.” I grimace.

“Hey”—he adjusts to get a better look at me—“it’s no competition.”

I’m suddenly aware I’m still sitting on his lap and his hand is dangerously close to my ass.

“Right.” I smile and carefully move back to my seat.

“So”—he takes a sip of his beer—“anal, huh?”

12

Marsh

Lucy just looks at me with a devilish grin on the verge of revealing itself.

“Do you still want to leave?” she asks, ignoring my last remark. Even though it was a joke, it’s probably better this way.

I do everything in my power to not look at her cleavage that’s distractingly on display, but looking at her face isn’t any better. Her dark eyes, the graze of freckles on her nose, and her full lips make me feel like she’s fucking kryptonite.

I’m nearing the bottom of my bottle. I take a final sip. “I’m okay to stay a little longer if you are.”

“Great.” Her face lights up. “I’ll get us another round.”

“Here.” I reach for my pocket and pass her my credit card.

“No, keep it. This one’s on me, sailor.” She playfully winks and walks toward the bar.

When I agreed to this arrangement, I couldn’t have predicted at any point Lucy would be sitting on my lap in front of my ex’s best friend. Having a conversation maybe, perhaps a hug or even a friendly handhold if we needed to, yes. But not lap-sitting andtalking about our imaginary sex lives. What I quickly learned about Lucy, and am now growing to admire, is how ruthless and open she is. Lucy doesn’t care what anyone thinks about her.

My gaze travels to Lucy waiting at the bar. The minute I saw her tonight I almost couldn’t handle it. I wanted to call the whole thing off right then and there because I don’t know if I’m strong enough to continue this charade with someone like her. Someone who is truly testing every part of me right now.

I actively tell myself that this isn’t real. The closeness, the laughing, the lap-sitting—it’s all for show.This isn’t real.

Lucy comes back with the same brand of beer I was drinking in one hand and a martini in the other.

“Thank you,” I say and take a healthy swig to calm myself. Then, one of the waitresses comes to our table with two shot glasses on her tray. She sets them down in front of us and tells us to enjoy. “What’s this?” I ask.

“This”—Lucy takes one shot glass and passes me the other—“is to us.”