“Your mom’s cat died.”
I scoff. “You sent me flowers because my mom’s cat died?”
“No. I sent you flowers because I wanted you to feel as good as I do today.”
“Shep, we are friends. You have no idea what it means to be friends. You cross all the lines and—”
“Were you pissed off at Jules? When you thought they were from her … because I assume you called her first. Were you mad?”
“I …” I clench my teeth and roll my eyes. “That’s not the point.”
“That’s the only point. It can’t be okay for Jules to send you flowers, but not okay for me to send you flowers.”
I close the door to my office. “I’m not having sex with Jules. So don’t lecture me on friendship etiquette.”
“Well, Jules should address that if she feels it’s unfair that I get to have sex with you and she doesn’t.”
Pinching the bridge of my nose, I bite my lips to keep from grinning. Not that he can see me. Still, I swear he’d detect the grin on my face from the sound of my voice. “Got. You got to have sex with me. Once. It was a one and done. And for the record, I wasn’t thrilled about the idea of Jules sending me flowers for no particular reason. When I thought it was her, I called to tell her it was too much.”
“And thanked her,” he says.
“No.”
“Yes. I’m not stupid, Sophie. Even if you thought it was too much, which I’m sure you would or did say to her, there’s no way you would have been mad. There’s no way you wouldn’t have said thank you. So just tell me they’re too much, then insert the big ‘but’ and finish your long speech with a ‘Thank you, Shep. It’s too much, but so sweet, and you’ve brightened my Tuesday.’”
I have this clawing urge to argue with him, to make some grand point about the level of inappropriateness. It’s unsettling. He’s unsettling.
He’s also fun and spontaneous. Irresistibly sexy, yet effortlessly charming. I like the version of me with him. That’s why the flowers are not okay. He can’t be perfect. Perfect doesn’t exist. And even if it did, I’m at the worst possible place in my life to receive it.
He wins. This time.
“Thank you, Shep. It’s too much, but so sweet, and you’ve brightened my Tuesday.”
“You’re welcome. Millie is meeting me at the park with the dogs tomorrow at five. How does a five-thirty doggy playdate sound?”
“It sounds like you don’t want me to meet Millie.”
He chuckles. “You’re not wrong. And uh … what did you mean when you said ‘we don’t exist?’ Are we dead? Ghosts? What did I miss?”
Biting the inside of my cheek for a second, I lean my backside against the edge of the desk. “I’ve told you my real life is complicated now. You came into it at the worst possible time, in some ways. In other ways, you’re a much needed distraction. An escape from reality. So when we’re together, I pretend it’s not real life. I wouldn’t have had sex with you in real life.”
“I see … I uh … is that a compliment? Or should I feel like you’re embarrassed of me? And did we not use a condom because you had a procedure or because you didn’t think you could get pregnant if you just pretended it wasn’t real?”
I snort. “No. I’m not that stupid. Definitely the former. And yes, it’s a compliment.”
“So sending flowers to your work was breaking the barrier?”
“Exactly.”
There’s a pause. A long pause.
Is he questioning my mental state? I can’t blame him if he is. On a scale of one to ten, my sanity, as of late, has teetered around the three to four mark.
“Okay,” he says.
Again. I wait for him to elaborate, but he doesn’t.
“Okay, we’re good … or okay you think I’m out of my mind?”
“A bit of both.”
Biting back my grin, I nod several times. “So I’ll meet you at the park?”
“Hypothetically, yes.”
I laugh.
“See you at five-thirty. Gotta go, Sophie. Some of us have real work to do.”
“I have real—”
He ends the call before I finish my protest.
I stare at the flowers. They’re beautiful. For a few seconds, I allow myself to smile and feel good about his gesture.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
By the time I drive home the next day, I have a new driveway. Biting my tongue, I speed-walk past Jimmy to change my clothes, get Cersei and her gear, and practically run to the park.
It’s five-forty.
“Hey …” I say out of breath.
Shep’s in shorts and a red tee with blue sneakers, one of them propped up against the tree at his back. His arms are crossed in a standoffish pose.
“Where’s Julia and George?”
He frowns. “Millie is running late. We should just reschedule our playdate.”
“Because now I’m going to meet her? Or because you’re in a bad mood and won’t be any fun?”