The Love Coupon (Stubborn Hearts 2)

Tom walked past her on his way to his room. She went after him to hers. They were doing it. Back in the living room, phones in hand, she said, “We’re saying goodbye to the meat market of casual, meaningless, demoralizing sex. We’ll have to scratch the itch another way.”

“We’re quitting a service that drives social isolation by replacing sustained intimacy with single-instance, shallow encounters.”

“You’ve thought about this. That’s very good.”

“It’s Hillary Preston, professor of behavioral sciences at UCLA School of Medicine. She calls it cupcake socialization. Cupcakes are ubiquitous but unique, simple and desirable, calorie-laden, habit-forming reward schemes. A diet of them is bad for you.”

“Go, Hillary.” She lowered her chin. “You stood someone up.”

“She was a kid. Way too young.”

“She might’ve been me.”

“I wouldn’t have stood you up.”

Ah.

Awkward.

Maybe he didn’t think she was a lousy lay. She tugged at her top. “You weren’t judging my dress casuals earlier.”

“I reacted to seeing you look so different.”

“Not that I mind. This is your home. I’m just passing through.”

“I’m not judging.”

“I’m not going to explode or backfire, or have a meltdown. You can trust me. I’m happy with where my life is. I wouldn’t change a thing right now. Except I’d already be in Washington.” And the bank of Flick would be closed for everyday business.

“You can have the rest of that pie.”

“You’re a good man, Tom O’Connell.” Stiff and particular, and in need of messing with, but a decent person. “Do you miss Josh?”

“I do. Easiest, closest friend I ever made.”

Look at the two of them. Many talking. Much relationship. Who needed thirty-six questions designed to create intimacy like Jack and Derelie? They had honest distrust, mutual necessity and grudging sexual awareness. “Are you gay, bi? I never thought to ask.”

“No—” he looked at the ceiling “—but I run on tight rails.”

“You can’t dispute it.”

His eyes came back to hers. “They’re my rails and they got me to where I am. Living the way I do works for me. I’m happy with my life. I’m one promotion away from it being perfect.”

She brandished her phone. “Then what are we waiting for? Giving up on cupcake. Pie all the way. Deleting on three.”

“One.”

“Two.”

They deleted on three.

Flick got her pie and she got to tease a cupcake too.

Chapter Five

Week two of living with Flick was less weird than week one. She still left for work earlier than Tom and came home earlier, but he heard her about the place: trying to close the door softly and mostly failing, going out late to the gym, having a heart-to-heart with his Keurig machine, taking an involved work call on the balcony, walking into the coffee table and swearing up a blue streak. She did that twice. Her shins would be paying for it.

She also left a trail of evidence of her existence. A hair tie on the kitchen counter, earrings on the hall table, a pair of running shoes by the door. Her satchel took up residence in the living room and there was often a scarf draped over a stool back.