Autumn
“What do you think of this?” I pulled a green silk dress I’d bought but never worn out of my closet and pressed it against my body before turning to show Skye.
“It looks Gucci with your skin and hair.”
My forehead winkled. “Gucci?”
Skye rolled her eyes. “It means it looks hot. Sometimes I can’t believe you’re in your twenties. Your vocab is the same as my mom’s.”
“Uhh. Thank you?”
She flipped the page of her magazine while sitting on my bed with a smirk. “It wasn’t a compliment.”
I chuckled and walked over to the mirror. “Do you think the material is too clingy?”
She flipped another page, lifted the sample flap on a perfume advertisement, and brought it up to her nose for a sniff. “There’s no such thing as too clingy. Where are you wearing it? Also...” She wrinkled her nose. “This smells like shit.”
“Let me smell.” She held out the magazine, and I walked over and smelled the page. “I like it.”
She shook her head again and mumbled under her breath. “You really are turning into my mom.”
At twenty-two, Skye was only six years younger than me. But sometimes it felt like she could be my child. That’s probably because she’d been an actual child when we’d met six years ago.
“What’s the dress for?”
“Court tomorrow with one of my kids.”
She shut the magazine and wiggled her eyebrows. “Ahh…the hot, rich lawyer who steals shampoo from hotels and has a shitload of plants. What’s going on there? I need all the details. Did you see him again?”
I nodded. “Yeah…and things got a little complicated.”
“Complicated good or complicated bad?”
“I sort of went to a party with Blake—I told you they work at the same firm. Technically Blake is one of Donovan’s bosses. Anyway, at the party, I wound up making out with Donovan in a bathroom.”
“Holy crap.” She tossed the magazine to the side and clapped her hands together. “I didn’t think you had it in you.”
I sat down on the bed and sighed. “I don’t, Skye.”
“So dump the other guy.”
“It’s not that…”
“So what is it?”
“I’m just… I’m not ready.”
“Okay, well…what are you doing to make yourself ready?”
I frowned. “You’re throwing my own words back at me, aren’t you?”
“Nope. I’m just recycling good advice.”
I smiled sadly. “I know, I know. I lectured you and pushed you for years. You don’t have to remind me what a hypocrite I am. I’m good at talking the talk, but apparently not so good at walking the walk.”
Skye took my hand and squeezed. “It’s okay. We walk when we’re ready to walk. But maybe you need to start taking baby steps.”
“I have been. I’ve been dating the last few years.”
“No, you’ve been having sex with men you see no future with. You only date guys who aren’t looking for an emotional connection. The one time you really connected with a guy, you spent a weekend with him and wouldn’t have sex. Don’t you think that’s an issue? You’ll sleep with a man you’re not that into, and won’t with the one you are. I’m not sure that counts as taking baby steps. It’s more like crawling.”
I blew out a deep breath. “Maybe. But I like things the way they are.”
“Do you really, though? The thought of hot lawyer banging some other woman doesn’t bother you?”
Skye and I had made a pact years ago never to lie to each other about what we were feeling. No matter what. We’d gone through some pretty hard truths, so I wasn’t about to lie to her now.
I frowned. “That actually makes me feel like throwing something—like a lamp out the window, without opening it first.”
“Oh, honey.” She smiled sadly and squeezed my hand again.
Ten minutes ago, I’d felt like Skye was my daughter, and now she felt like the more mature one. In some ways, she had grown more than me. She’d even had a serious boyfriend for almost a year now. And while I dated, I kept things limited to sex. Until last year, I hadn’t met a man who interested me enough to want more. Then I lost my luggage and fell hard in only three days. But I’d run the other direction as fast as I could, and eventually stopped thinking about him every day—until life threw me a cruel curveball.
“When was the last time you talked to Lillian?”
Lillian was my and Skye’s therapist, and the way we’d met. Usually I never ran into another patient while I waited for my weekly appointment. Lillian’s office was super private and discreet—she had two separate waiting rooms so patients never had to see each other. But one day I was early, and Skye came in crying without an appointment. The receptionist mixed up the rooms, so the two of us wound up sitting across from each other. It only took fifteen minutes of talking for us to bond, and the rest is history.