She took his hand and shook.
7
ELISA TUCKED HERSELF into the corner of Haven’s couch and sipped her red wine. “So,” she said. “Tell me about Greg Stoneham.”
“He’s great,” said Haven.
Elisa narrowed her eyes. Haven held up for a moment under her scrutiny, then wilted and sighed. She’d been looking forward to this girls’ night, but also dreading it. Since Wednesday evening she’d been able to think of nothing but Mark’s mouth on hers and his hand in her panties. If there was anyone on Earth capable of reading her mind, it was Elisa.
“Let me guess. He seems like a great guy, but there’s no spark.”
Haven bowed her head, guilty as charged. “Am I that predictable?”
“You’re pretty predictable.”
“I told him I’d go out with him again.”
“That was open-minded of you.”
“You told me I wasn’t allowed to reject them after one date if I couldn’t explain why they weren’t right. You said I had to give the chemistry at least a small window to develop.”
“Right. Right, I did. Which was very sensible of me. So, when are you guys going out again?”
“Saturday night.”
“Could you try to sound at least a little bit excited about it?”
“No,” said Haven sadly. She might have been able to maintain a shred of optimism if Mark hadn’t turned her inside out. But now there was no more lying to herself. For the first time, she knew what it felt like to want someone so much that her whole body conspired against her better judgment. No matter how many chances she gave Greg Stoneham, he would always be an only-on-paper man.
Elisa frowned. “Haven?”
“Uh-huh?”
“What aren’t you telling me?”
Haven hadn’t known Elisa very long, but their friendship had developed quickly in the wake of their shared experience in the Caribbean. Since then, they’d started hanging out on the occasional evening, drinking red wine and eating dark chocolate. Haven loved Elisa’s no-nonsense attitude, but she did fear her friend’s ability to see straight to the truth.
Haven sighed. “I’m getting the Cheetos.”
Sometimes, if things were particularly bad for one of them, they supplemented the wine-and-chocolate menu with more serious junk food.
“Uh-oh,” said Elisa.
Haven brought the bag back to the couch, along with a stack of paper towels, and fortified herself with one of the Cheetos. She had to eat them one at a time and wipe her fingertips in between because she hated the buildup of orange cheese under her nails. “If I tell you this, you can’t tell anyone.”
“I signed a confidentiality agreement,” said Elisa. “That’s more than you get with most friends.”
Haven smiled. “True.”