Page 56 of The Write Stuff

Wylie’s eyes were curious when they landed on me. “I thought it was just my mother who wouldn’t talk about it.”

I held out my hands and shrugged. “No. We just don’t talk about it when we’re together, and I know better than asking.”

“I stopped asking a long time ago, too,” Wylie said. “I only asked twice. I was shot down twice. Then I let it go because … well, just because.” She offered Bree a rueful smile. “I’m sorry that we’re such a disappointment to you, but we don’t have the dirt you’re looking for.”

Bree opened her mouth, but I shut her down before she could get a full head of steam. “There’s no salacious romance gossip either.”

“Definitely not,” Wylie agreed. She was focused on her menu. “Men and women can be friends without it turning into romance. You know that, right?”

“Yeah,” Nathan agreed. “Look at Hayley and me. We’re besties, and we never got romantic.”

Hayley gave him a dry look. “I’m not sure that our lack of relationship is the best argument you’ve got on that topic.”

“Especially since she finds penises to be nightmare fuel,” Bree agreed. “Also, I’m not saying that men and women can’t be friends — I would never say that — but I’m not sure you guys can be friends.”

I tried not to take offense to that and failed. “What is that supposed to mean?” I barked, surprising even myself with my vehemence. Yup. I was definitely offended.

She held up her hands in surrender. “I’m not saying there’s anything wrong with you, so pipe down. I’m just saying that you guys spark too much to ever be friends.”

I gave Wylie a sidelong look. Spark? We didn’t spark. The second I met her gaze; I felt the zing. It coursed through me from the top of my head to the tips of my toes. That would be the spark that Bree was referring to.

“There’s no spark,” Wylie insisted. She didn’t look at me when she said it, making me believe that she was lying. Or perhaps I just hoped that. “Let it go.” She held out her menu for me to look at. “I’m thinking of getting the Mardi Gras Pasta, but I want the fried green tomatoes, too. I’m afraid that will be too much. Do you want to split them with me?”

I had to force myself to focus on her for what felt like a really long time. “Um … yeah,” I said finally, nodding. She wanted the fried green tomatoes. She was going to get the fried green tomatoes.

“Is something wrong?” she asked, a little line appearing between her eyebrows as she looked me over. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” I promised her, meaning it. “Everything is great.”

She leaned over and patted my knee under the table, sending an electric jolt through me. “Don’t let Bree get to you,” she whispered. “That’s what she wants. She’s not happy unless she’s torturing others.”

“I heard that,” Bree groused.

“Yeah, I know.” Wylie smiled at her. “That’s why I said it as loud as I did.”

I smiled because everybody else at the table was smiling. Inside, though, my emotions were a whirl. Maybe Bree was on to something. Maybe the spark was more than I was allowing myself to believe.

Deep down, I’d known the spark would consume me if I thought about it too much. Now, Bree had thrown it in my face. There was no escaping it now. I realized that and had no idea what to do with my feelings.

What if this was about to blow up and burn us all?

DINNER WAS GOOD. THE ATMOSPHERE at the table finally settled, although I could feel Bree’s suspicious eyes on me the whole time. Everybody chatted about what they were working on. The proud parents updated everybody on how their babies were doing as well, which allowed me to mentally check out of the conversation.

It wasn’t as if I had anything against babies — they were fine — but I couldn’t work up a lot of interest in other people’s babies. Maybe if I had a baby of my own, with Wylie, of course. With Wylie? I was clearly losing my head. Now I was considering having babies with Wylie? That was ridiculous. I didn’t even know if she wanted babies.

Heck, for all I knew, she didn’t want kids because she’d been forced to parent Lucy even though she hadn’t given birth to her. That might sour anybody on kids. Plus, I couldn’t be with Wylie. It just wasn’t possible. Our mothers hated one another.

Not that I wanted to date Wylie, of course. Everything I was feeling — the rage, sickness, and hope — was because Bree had never met an opinion she didn’t want to share with everybody. It was frustrating to the nth degree. Bree should have kept her mouth shut. I wouldn’t have even felt the spark if she hadn’t pointed it out.

My inner voice begged to differ.

You’ve been feeling the spark since the start. That’s why you keep coming back for more.

And there it was. If I were being brutally honest with myself — which I had no choice but to be at this point — I had been reacting to the spark. I’d felt it the moment I saw Wylie across the table from me that first night. I’d registered two things in that moment. The first was that she was absolutely gorgeous. The second was that she was Wylie.

Had I never known Wylie, I would have been attracted to the adult version of her. She was exactly what I’d always been attracted to in a woman. Well, Anna Paquin notwithstanding. She didn’t count, though. I’d been an impressionable kid, and True Blood was very open about sex. Of course, I’d been attracted to that show. I didn’t have a choice.

Wylie, though, was the real deal. She was nothing like Sookie Stackhouse, and thank the heavens above for that, because I’d rewatched the show as an adult about a year before, and the problems with Sookie’s personality only became obvious then. I didn’t want Sookie Stackhouse. Did I want Wylie, though?