After All - Romancing Manhattan

“The ol’ stuck-at-the-office trick,” Sienna says with a knowing nod after I tell them about being stuck in the storm. “Works every time.”

“I don’t think Carter could control a blizzard.” I frown into my empty martini glass, and London fills it again from the shaker she’s had a constant vodka supply in.

“And the sex is good?” London asks softly. They’re both glassy-eyed, red-cheeked, and now that every shoe in my closet has been tried on and in a heaping pile on my bedroom floor, we’re just lounging and gossiping about my love life.

London and I are on the bed, and Sienna is sitting on the floor, her back braced against my dresser.

“It’s the best I’ve ever had,” I confide softly. “So different from when I was married.”

“Hold up,” London says. “You were married?”

“For about six years,” I say with a nod. “Richard and I met in college. We were both from small towns in Ohio, and we were just so young.”

I set my half-empty glass aside.

“What happened?” Sienna asks.

“There’s a list of things. He didn’t like the number of hours I put in for Carter. He said I was never home, and that’s why he was forced to find someone else to have sex with.”

“Whoa,” London says, sitting up straight. “What in the actual hell?”

“I didn’t mean to say that. I’m a little drunk.”

“I’m a lot drunk,” Sienna says with a grin. “Keep talking.”

“My marriage failing was my fault.” I shrug. “I didn’t pay him enough attention.”

“He was a jealous asshole,” London says. “You had a demanding career. There’s no crime in that.”

“Yeah, he didn’t like it. He also hated that I earned more money than him.”

“What’s up with these insecure idiots who can’t deal with a successful woman?” Sienna demands the room at large. “I mean, we’re well into the twenty-first century.”

“You’re so much better off without him,” London agrees.

“I know. However, my parents don’t think so. I should be getting a call any day from my mother, reminding me to come back to Ohio to grovel for Richard to take me back.”

“Who wants to be married to someone named Richard?” Sienna asks, scrunching up her nose. “It’s so formal. Did you call him Rick?”

“Or Dick?” London adds with a smirk.

“Definitely no nicknames allowed,” I say, shaking my head. “I once called him Rick, and he said, my name is Richard.”

“Ugh,” Sienna says. “So I bet the sex was all formal, too.”

“And about twice a year,” I agree. “Carter can’t keep his hands off me.”

“That’s how it should be,” London says. “The man you’re with should want to be intimate with you. He should cherish you. He should not ever want to humiliate you or make you feel bad for being successful at what you do.”

“Why would your parents want you to stay with someone like that?” Sienna asks.

“Because divorce is a big no-no.”

“Well, I’m glad you have us,” London says and Sienna nods in agreement. “We think you’re amazing, and divorcing Rick the Dick was the best thing ever, second only to having sex with Carter.”

“Cheers to that.” I clink my glass to theirs and sigh in happiness. “Thanks for being so nice to me.”

“We’re in this together,” Sienna says. “Only we know what it’s like to be with these men. They’re not easy.”

“But they’re worth it,” London says.

Oh God. My head. My alarm is trying to kill me. I shut it off and roll over, coming face-to-face with a snoring London.

Last night comes rushing back to me, and I can’t help but smile, despite the jackhammer pounding in my temporal lobe.

I had the best time. We shopped. Sienna tried on my shoes.

We talked about sex and shoes and everything.

And then we fell asleep.

I frown, remembering that Sienna should be here somewhere, and shuffle out to the kitchen. Sienna’s sleeping soundly on my couch, curled up in two of my throw blankets.

I’m going to be late for work today. Another first.

I find my cell in my purse and discover five texts from Carter. With a wince, I open them, but he’s not mad.

I hope you’re having a fun time with Si and London.

Did you happen to have dinner?

Please call me when you get home.

Blink twice if you haven’t been abducted by a serial killer.

Did you dump me and I wasn’t aware?

I grin and shoot him a text in return.

Sorry! My phone was in my bag. I had a blast last night. In fact, I’m a smidge hungover and will be late coming into the office today.

I send the text and turn to see Sienna sitting on the couch, wiping the sleep from her eyes. “Damn, my head.”

“I’ll get you some Advil. I need some myself.” I pull the bottle out of the cabinet, just as London walks out of the bedroom. Her hair is a curtain over her face.