No Strings Attached(52)

She rummaged around in the kitchen for a couple of minutes, doing nothing in particular while she tried to gather her thoughts. Right. Dessert. Micky hadn’t made a big deal out of it and had just bought five tartlets at the most upmarket bakery she knew. In her experience, once guests reached dessert, they were either too full from the copious previous dishes, or too boozed up to truly enjoy her efforts.

She turned away from the sink and the stack of dirty dishes inside it. “Coffee anyone?”

“Why don’t you come sit with us for a bit and have something stronger,” Sheryl said. “You look like you need it.”

Micky was so happy Sheryl was there. If it had just been Amber, she’d be boiling water for a cup of peppermint tea—because green tea this late at night was not a good idea according to Amber.

“I know where she keeps the good stuff.” Amber got up and headed for the drinks cabinet.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Sheryl asked. “Or am I being too nosy?”

Micky sat down. She had put herself across from Martha, whom she couldn’t look in the face right then.

“Don’t worry about me, Micky,” Martha said. “Sheryl briefed me about Robin. She wouldn’t have been a very good friend if she hadn’t.”

“I’m sorry. I thought it was over,” Micky said. This was a very odd thing to be apologizing for, especially because Micky felt more like jumping up and down with glee.

Amber deposited five glasses and an unopened bottle of brandy on the table.

“This is good news,” Kristin added.

“It is. It’s just a bit unexpected, and well, the timing is a bit off, I guess.” Micky couldn’t help a stupid grin from appearing on her face.

“What are you going to do?” Sheryl asked.

Have really amazing sex and probably have my heart broken. “I’ll go see her tomorrow.”

Amber planted a, by her measures, generously filled glass of brandy in front of Micky.

“I guess we’ll just be friends then.” Martha held up her glass for an impromptu toast.

Micky could kiss her, though that would be a bit ironic, for sucking some tension from the room like that.

She was finally able to hold Martha’s gaze for longer than a split second. “I would really like that.”

Next to her, though she would never admit it, Amber sat beaming.





CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE





Micky desperately wanted to get some sleep, but it was impossible. She’d also been a bit too liberal with the brandy in order to calm her nerves. She lay tossing and turning in her bed, alone, thinking that she could be in Robin’s bed right then. “Patience,” she kept whispering to herself, as she calculated what would be a decent time to call Robin the next morning.

Oh, screw it. She could just send a message now. She’d waited long enough.

Can’t sleep, she typed. Can’t wait to see you tomorrow.

She hoped that at least giving Robin a sign that she was very appreciative of her gesture would give her some peace of mind. It didn’t. She also didn’t want to fall asleep now in case Robin was suffering from insomnia as well. She lay on her side, glancing at her phone on the nightstand, waiting for it to light up with a message.

While she did, she considered how graciously Martha had taken Robin’s interruption. Micky didn’t feel too guilty about that, though, because the spark between her and Amber had been so obvious. After everyone had left, Micky had teased Amber about it, and her friend had turned beet red—to Micky’s great delight.

Just as she started dozing off, sheer exhaustion taking over, her phone lit up. Instantly, Micky was wide awake again.

Can’t sleep either. Shall I come over?

Oh God. Yes, please, was Micky’s first thought, but her house was a mess after the dinner party, dishes piled high in the open kitchen—not to mention how messy Micky herself looked. Additionally, the rainstorm that had started when Robin rang her bell had softened a little, but it was still pouring down outside. Micky couldn’t, in good conscience, ask Robin to make her way to her through that kind of weather again.

I’ll come to you, she texted back.

She jumped out of bed and was reminded that she was operating on no sleep at all. But, to hell with it, she could still pull an all-nighter. As soon as she got to Robin’s, she could sink into her embrace, and fall into the most blissful sleep. Yeah, right.

Micky took a quick shower, but did nothing to her hair because the rain would ruin it, anyway. Then she set off into the dark, stormy night. Just walking out of her door at two in the morning was a thrill—and then there was the woman she was going to see.

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