But thinking about the look on his face when he saw Sophie … when he saw the little girl, Isabella …
My stomach rolls over in a bout of nausea.
Ginger sits up and grabs my arm. "Hell. No. That boy is so in love with you, I'm envious. Me! The girl of no-strings-attached, hot sex. What you two have makes me want it, too. And I wouldn't want it if it wasn't extraordinary." She settles back against the door before she continues. "I mean, do you think I'd take this off the market for anything less than the true, deep, everlasting kind of love? I couldn't do that to humanity and feel good about it."
She says this with a straight face. Totally Ginger. I have to laugh, even though my heart doesn't feel better yet.
"I realize that's a big deal and I really hope you can find it one day. It's only fair that you feel this kind of misery as well."
Ginger sighs. "I don't know if I'll ever find what you have."
"Why don't you just ask him out for God's sake?"
"Who?"
I give her a withering look. "Don't even pretend that we're not both talking about Gavin."
"He's not interested, Liv, I'm telling ya." My best friend has tried to blow off her interest in Gavin, but I can tell by her expression that it hurts her. I've thought all along that she really likes Gavin. Like, more than just a fling. Nothing has ever happened, though.
"I think you're wrong. That pat on the ass he gave you earlier was anything but disinterested. What does he have to do, take you into a dark corner and rip your clothes off?"
"Preferably."
"I think you should go for it. What do you have to lose?"
Ginger closes her eyes and leans her head back against the thick wood of the door. "My heart. I … I don't think I want just a fling with him."
This admission is hard for my friend, which is why she isn't looking at me. She's unaccustomed to tenderness or unexpected weakness. She's always been in charge, in complete control, and I'm sure this is a foreign feeling for her.
"Maybe he doesn't either, but there's only one way to find out."
"And if it's a bust?" she asks, her voice low and somber.
"I've survived broken hearts. You will, too. They're all worth it when you find the real thing. The right one."
She opens her eyes and pins me with her stare. "Like what you have with Cash?"
My stomach flips over. "Yes, like what I have with Cash."
"You realize that nothing will ever come between you two unless you let it, right?"
I look into my friend's wise blue eyes. "So don't let it, is that what you're saying?"
"That's exactly what I'm saying. He loves you, Liv. And you love him. This is just a bump in the road. Don't make it into something it's not. He didn't marry her. He married you."
"But they have a child together," I remind her, my throat closing over the words even as I utter them.
"They might have a child together. I still don't believe it," she says stubbornly.
"Did you see her eyes? Those are Davenport eyes."
"I hate to be the one to tell you, Liv, but there are other men in the world with dark brown eyes."
"But they're almost black. Just like Cash's."
"And there are other almost-black eyes in the world, too. Don't jump to conclusions. And even if it is, so what? So he has a kid with someone else. That changes nothing unless you let it. You can still have babies with him. Little black-eyed babies that he'll get to hold when they're born and watch grow up. This woman has nothing on you, Liv. Not one damn thing."
"If you could just convince my heart of that."
"That's not my job. That's your husband's. And he's already trying to do that. You just have to let him."
"What do you mean?"
"He made her leave right after you excused yourself."
"He did?"
"He did. Said he'd talk to her later, that he needed to check on you."
Even though it's rude and inconsiderate to ask her to leave when she's really done nothing wrong (not technically), it makes me feel good that Cash did that for me.
"And don't you dare say that was rude of him, Miss Southern Hospitality."
My mouth drops open. "I wasn't … I didn't … " She knows me far too well.
"You were gonna. But it wasn't rude. She interrupted. Dropped by unannounced. To drop the mother of all bombs. At Christmas, no less. Sweet baby Jesus, who does that?" When I don't answer, Ginger shakes her head. "No decent person. Which means she's obviously dumb as a box of hair. Makes me wonder if the little girl is that stupid. If she is, I feel even sorrier for Cash. I mean, who wants an idiot for a daughter?"