121
Natalie
"Is it just me, or does this Andouille sausage look like a you-know-what?" Christine asks, laughing.
"Girl, get your mind out of the gutter," I joke. "I think you just need a good booty call."
"Not all guys are made alike," she says. "We can't all be so lucky and have a hot Prince in our lives."
"You know I didn't choose that."
A waiter approaches our table and refills our water glasses. My lemon wedge jostles with the ice cubes in my glass and I watch as the pulp from the citrus clouds the water. I once heard that you should never put the lemon wedge from a restaurant in your glass because apparently it harbors some of the most germs.
But whatevs. I like lemon water, so I risk it.
"You look happy," Christine says. "A lot happier than before. You have a glow about you or something, girl."
I have to admit that she's right. But she doesn't look bad herself. The whole night I've been secretly admiring the new lipstick she's been wearing—an unapologetic pink that is bold and more magenta than pastel. It's bold and badass and I make a mental note to find a shade just like that.
"It's true; I feel like a whole new person," I reply with a smile. "I've been seeing Connor … a lot lately."
Christine takes a sip of her drink and chuckles.
"I figured that much," she says, smiling. "Does that mean you two are … serious?"
"I mean, I really don't want to jump the gun and jinx things, but … I think so," I say. "We're so different, Connor and I."
"But don't you see? It's the couples who are the most different who make the best pairs. It's what happy ending are made of! Jump into any good book or movie and you'll see what I'm talking about."
"You're probably right. If people are too similar, they either bore each other to death, or they want to kill each other. Connor and I are opposites on so many levels—his wealth, ego, and liquid courage, but I feel so good around him—like I can take on the world, you know?"
"I'm so happy for you Natalie. You deserve to be happy."
"But even though I'm happy, and things are good—Connor is so different from all of the men I've dated in the past."
"No kidding," Christine laughs. "He's a prince … and a real man. No offense, but your past boyfriends were far from men. Like those spineless guys from the Harvard Porc club. I mean, how different can you get from a Prince?"
"It's not just that," I say. "I've just never dated around much, and I'm a bit more conservative with who I sleep with—case in point about those Harvard guys—and I definitely never considered that I'd be dating a playboy. But then Connor came along and he got me out of my shell. I've really opened up to him, and let down my guard."
"I'd say he got you out of more than just your shell … like maybe your clothes?" she laughs. "But in all seriousness, that's great, I just want you to be careful girl."
"What do you mean by that?" I ask.
"Just take it slow, okay? You're one of my best friends and I don't want to see you get hurt. Don't go too far too fast, you know what I mean?"
Christine's always been a worrier and over protective, so I dismiss her.
"Come on, you don't need to worry about me," I say. "I know what I'm doing. Connor is a good guy, I swear. I've really gotten to know him over these last few weeks."
"I'm just looking out for you," Christine says with a serious expression on her face.
"I appreciate that, but Connor and I are great," I reply.
The next morning I have a smile the size of a watermelon wedge on my face. This is possibly the happiest I've ever been in my life. I walk into the offices of Gage Price, but I quickly realize that everyone is looking at me. Instead of the usual office chatter, it's unusually quiet. The people who are talking, are now communicating in hushed tones. Is it just me, or are people trying hard not to stare?
I approach my desk, and settle in. I power up my computer and place my purse on my desk when I see a note. It's from my manager, George Brown.
"Please come see me as soon as you get in. Thanks, George"