“Look,” Sylvie continued, “I’m worried about you being all alone in a different country with some guy you don’t know.”
“Why?”
“Because—” she blew out her breath, pausing “—you’re not like me. You have feelings and standards and you deserve more than that. Promise you’ll stay safe and tell me everything when you get back?”
I nodded. “Uh-huh.”
“One last word of advice, guys like him and Ryan are trouble. Good looks and successful careers are a dangerous combination.”
Trouble—wasn’t that the word I used upon meeting Jett for the first time? I frowned. “Thanks.”
“Okay.” She didn’t sound too happy to drop the subject, but it was good enough for me. The air was clear. I had managed to dodge a bullet and buy myself a few more days before I’d be Sylvie-interrogated. “Have you found out who sent the Manila envelope still cluttering our expensive coffee table in the hall?” she asked, finally changing the subject. “I’m really scared to sleep with that thing inside the house. It looks like something from Law & Order that’s ready to blow up.”
I rolled my eyes, grateful she couldn’t see it. “It’s only a letter, for crying out loud. Just open it if it bothers you so much.”
“Can’t you send someone over to do it, like your mother? Or—” She paused and I could almost hear the wheels of her brain working away. The sad thing about Sylvie was that she actually meant every word. “I guess I could ask Ryan. Since he’s dating some double DDs, he’s as good as dead to me.”
I didn’t want to mention that guys like him, meaning ridiculously rich and manipulative, always ended up going for plastic, be it bigger breasts or shiny new credit cards. But why state the obvious? Sylvie needed to heal, and expressing my disdain would only make her more obsessed with a jerk unworthy of her obsession.
“I’ll be back next week,” I said. “Until then, just leave it on my desk and forget about it. I bet it’s not even important.”
“It looks important.”
Then open the darn thing, I felt like yelling. “Leave it in my room, and I’ll take care of it when I get back home.”
“And what about the foreign guy who keeps calling? He doesn’t want to believe you’re not around, and it gives me the creeps.”
“I’ll be back next week,” I repeated slowly, emphasizing the last two words.
A sulky pause, then, “Fine. It really sucks without you. Promise me you’ll never get hitched and have kids. Or if you do, we’ll live next door from each other so I can visit any time.”
“Sounds great.” Living next door to each other was always our dream. However, if we ever ended up married, I doubted my husband would be so keen on the best friend’s constant presence breathing down his neck.
“I’ll think about it.” We chatted for a few more minutes, mostly focusing on Sylvie’s nightly escapades, before I hung up with the promise to call again as soon as I could.
Clutching my cell phone to my chest, it felt surreal to sit in a stranger’s room thousands of miles away from home, keeping secrets from my best friend. Sylvie and I had always told each other the truth, even if said truth hurt the other’s feelings. The contract clearly stated that I wasn’t to tell anyone about the agreement, but Jett had assured me the rules could be changed. So why did I not ask him to change this particular one?
Because you’re scared she’ll tell it like it is, and you know it won’t be pretty.
Had I fallen for my very own Ryan? Was I repeating Sylvie’s mistake? It was just a thought that briefly crossed my mind, and yet I couldn’t quite dismiss it. I long established that Jett wasn’t a liar like Ryan. He never pretended to want more than a physical relationship, to which I had agreed. But somehow my mind didn’t want to acknowledge that major difference between Jett and Ryan.
I sighed and forced my ugly thoughts to the back of my mind. Sylvie would find out about my agreement soon enough, upon which I’d deal with her candid opinion and metaphorical kick in the backside. Right now I enjoyed the present, doing whatever I felt like doing, without my best friend telling me how stupid I was for jumping into bed with my boss. Had she not been the one telling me to have fun in the first place? Would I have had the guts to do it if she didn’t advise me to go wild and lose all inhibitions? Probably not, but for once I was happy to have listened. A week with Jett and I felt more alive than I had in ages. However, I wasn’t so naïve to believe this trip would go on forever. It was just sex and a bit of fun. Sooner or later, one of us would grow bored and move on. No matter what happened, I knew I wouldn’t go back to the old, dreary, safe me. I wouldn’t go back to being conventional. At least not any time soon. And for that I was thankful to both Sylvie and Jett.