Page 53 of Some Sort of Happy (Happy Crazy Love 1)
I sighed. Of course she focused on that part. “Sex stuff.”
She gasped. “You had sex?”
“Yeah. And it was amazing,” I said sadly. “Best I’ve ever had.”
“Wow.” The first customers were starting to arrive, so we had to get to work, but we agreed to go for a drink that night to talk, and I texted Jillian to join us too.
All morning and afternoon, I mulled over what had happened, and by the time we closed the shop I had to admit there’d been a lot more good moments than bad last night. Had I jumped down his throat too quickly? All he’d done was suggest driving me home.
But no. No.
I could tell that something was different with him after that last time in his room. I didn’t really think he’d used me for sex—I’d only said that to hurt him. But something had happened to make him close off by the end of the night. The guy who’d driven me home was not the same guy I’d lain in the hammock with.
So who was it? And how could I get the other one back?
• • •
After we closed, I went home and took a long nap. When I woke up, I felt more rested but had no better understanding of Sebastian’s motives for shutting me out. Maybe my sisters would have some insight.
We met at Trattoria Stella at seven and sat at the bar, Jillian flanking me on one side and Nat on the other.
“So what’s new?” Jillian shrugged out of her jacket. She looked professional and mature in her dress trousers, pumps, and sleeveless silk blouse, and I immediately felt childish next to her in my ripped jeans and sandals.
Quit being stupid. It’s not about clothing.
“Skylar had amazing sex last night,” Natalie announced breathlessly, leaning forward with her elbows on the bar. “And she’s gonna tell us about it.”
“Amazing sex. What’s that like?” Jillian asked wistfully, picking up the wine list.
“I wouldn’t know either,” Natalie replied.
“Why?” I looked at her. “The text messages?”
Natalie shrugged, her mouth in a grim line. “He says those are nothing. We’re just in a dry spell, I guess.”
“Everything seemed fine at dinner last night,” Jillian offered, “and speaking of dinner.” She elbowed me. “I take it the amazing sex was with Sebastian, the guy you brought to Mom and Dad’s?”
I nodded glumly.
“You don’t look too happy about it.” Jillian tilted her head. “What’s up?”
We ordered wine and some appetizers, and while we nibbled and sipped, I spilled to Jillian the story I’d told Natalie this afternoon.
“OCD is really rough. I’ve got a few patients with it.” Jillian swirled the last ounce of chardonnay in her glass. “And you’re never really cured of it.”
“I know. He said the same.” I took a bite of calamari and didn’t even taste it. “But
is it the OCD that’s making him so moody? One second he’s sweet and talkative and laughing, and the next he’s a total dickhead.”
Jilly shrugged. “It could be. Obsessive impulses can pop up at any time or they can be there all the time. If he’s struggling with something in his head, he might not be able to just ignore it and keep up the chatter. Maybe going silent is one of his strategies for dealing with the thoughts instead of trying to bury or avoid them.”
“Yeah.” I set my fork down, feeling full although I’d barely eaten. “Makes sense, I guess.”
“Did he say anything about the fiancée?” Natalie asked.
“Not much.” I didn’t feel like blabbing the details he’d told me about their breakup—in fact, I felt strangely protective of them.
“Maybe he’s not over her?” Jillian suggested.
