“Where are you going now?”
“Home.”
“I just packed you breakfast for two.”
Peering in the bag, I see she’s not lying. There are two chocolate croissants, two Styrofoam containers, and a container of strawberries. Sighing, I look at her hopeful face. “I’m going home. Want to make me a bag for one?”
“Why are you going home, Danielle?”
“Because . . .”
“Because he had an appointment this morning?”
“Something like that.”
“You fucked and fled, didn’t you?”
“My God, Pepper.”
“You did! Damn it, Danielle.”
The bag raps as it’s plopped back on the counter. “Don’t ‘damn it, Danielle’ me. I’m trying to go with the flow but keep my head above water, all right? He’s my kryptonite. Attractive, cocky, confident, sweet, great in bed, and a fucking baseball player. He’s every sin I want to make wrapped up in one delectable body.”
“So, what’s the problem?”
“Ugh,” I huff. “Aren’t you listening to me? Don’t you know me?”
She appears unfazed by my outburst. “I do, actually. Which is why it makes me happier than a lark to see you with some spark right now. To see your eyes all lit up and some fire in your ass. You need to get rid of these crazy fears you have that everything will end in heartbreak.”
“It’s not crazy. It’s like . . .” I look at the ceiling for inspiration. “Imagine this: you grew up with a family that loved sugar. It was their weakness, okay?”
“I did.”
“Follow along,” I reprimand her. “Let’s say they were so addicted to it that they couldn’t stand for any of it to be in the house. They’d eat it all. All of it. Gone.”
“Okay . . .”
“So you move out. Start your own bakery. You’re safe because they aren’t there to eat your sugar, right? Then imagine you fall for some guy. He’s perfect . . . except he too is a sugar addict.”
She looks at me blankly.
“Don’t you see what I’m saying?” I ask.
“Yeah, but if he looks like Lincoln, I’d just handcuff him to the bed.”
Rolling my eyes, I grab the bag and turn towards the door.
“Hey,” she calls after me. “I want details. Don’t think you’re getting out of it that easy!”
The bell chimes as the front door closes behind me. I’m to my car in record speed. I need space. I need air. I need to think. When my phone buzzes right before I pull out of the parking lot, I know it’s Pepper and she’s not going to quit until I give her something to occupy her mind.
“Fine!” I nearly shout into the phone. “His cock is about ten inches, if I’m guessing, and he fucked me in about every position I could explain. My favorite, though, was the corkscrew. Not sure what that is? Google it.”
My finger goes to swipe off the call when I see the name on the screen and drop the phone. “Shit!” I cry, digging through the items on my passenger’s side floorboard until I find the glowing device.
My heart is pounding as I try to decide whether to end the call or talk to Lincoln. Mortified, I bring it to my ear and squeeze my eyes shut. He’s silent.
Maybe he didn’t hear. Please, God, don’t let him have heard that.