“So is your heart.” Vivienne grabs my elbow so we stop in the street. “He’s your first, Lenn. And he’s gorgeous and fantastic in bed and a freaking PhD.”
“And he looks at you like the sun rises and sets on your vagina,” Kimba mutters, stopped on the other side of me. “A man looks at you like that, fucks you like that, it’s hard not to get ideas, even when they tell you straight up ‘don’t get ideas.’ You hit the V-card lottery, boo.”
“I’m not a child. Just because I was a virgin—”
“Four days ago,” Vivienne interjects drolly.
“Doesn’t mean I’m some pitiful little girl who’ll be all clingy when Maxim and I go our separate ways.” I say it even though my heart mocks me that I might be exactly that when I lose him. God, lose him? I don’t have him. He’s not mine. We’re nothing. I feed myself the mantra that was supposed to protect my heart, to keep it safe and separate from the way Maxim makes my body feel. I can barely admit to myself, much less to my friends, that it’s not working.
“We’ll be the ones mopping up the tears,” Vivienne says, taking my hand. “And we won’t mind ’cause you’ve done it for both of us more than once.”
“A lot more than once.” Kimba takes my other hand. “So we know how bad it hurts, and we just don’t want to see you go through that.”
“Especially with this amazing opportunity on the horizon,” Vivienne says. “I mean, working for a Native American candidate running for the Senate? Could it be any more tailor-made for you? You need your head screwed on right to make the most of it.”
“I know.” I squeeze their hands, drawing strength and sensibility from the contact. “You’re right. Maybe I’m feeling . . . more than I should for Maxim. And he did tell me it was just this week and that he would walk away.”
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But every look, every touch, every time I’m with him, I see stay in his eyes. We agreed it was only for this week, but when he kisses me, it feels like it could be forever. Like we could make a world for ourselves, even though our paths are taking us to different corners of the globe.
I don’t tell my friends that because they’re already worried something might happen to my heart. I can’t tell them something probably already has.
“You’ve been heard,” I say, turning a grateful grin on them both. “Duly noted. I get it. This week. No more. No heartbreak. Now didn’t we say we’d do some damage at Leidsestraat? I got guilders burning a hole in my pocket. Let’s shop!”
We’re obsessing over a pair of earrings when my phone rings.
“Auntie, hey!” I answer Mena.
“Lennix, I have some news.”
I step away from the counter where Vivienne and Kimba sort through the array of jewelry. My heartbeat picks up.
The job?
“Okay. What gives?” I ask, not even trying to keep the excitement from my voice.
“You got it!”
“Oh, my gosh.” I press my hand to my chest, but it’s no use trying to calm down. My heart is banging at my ribs like a drumline. “Seriously?”
“Seriously!” Mena laughs. “One catch.”
“A catch? What is it?”
“Well, he wants you to come right away.”
“Yeah, I fly back home Friday.”
“He’d like you here on Friday. Can you fly back tonight?”
“Wow. Why so quickly?”
“He’d, um, like to tell you himself,” Mena says, her voice pitched lower. “He’s here with me. Would you speak to him?”
“Now?” I squeak. “He’s there with you now?”
“It’s a special situation, Lenn,” she says, her voice sobering. “Or he wouldn’t ask. Talk to him.”