Three weeks.
In the three weeks since we’d started dating, my life had completely changed. Ethan and I had been to four baseball games, three movies, fourteen dinners, and I’d lost count of how many times we’d had sex, including in the locker room of a Major League Baseball stadium. So much sex. All kinds of sex. Rough, dirty sex. Slow, intimate sex.
We were officially “dating” even though we did our best to hide it around the office. Still, people took notice. Ethan was like a completely different person. He was still punctual, methodical, and expected quality work from everyone, even me. But the insults were less, the intensity and stares had nearly faded away.
Dad was doing better, getting stronger. The doctors said not to get our hopes up, but we’d hear little things like, “I’ve never seen that before,” or “He’s doing better than most patients do.”
Things were definitely going great, and yet a hint of anxiety ran through me. What if I was getting too caught up in everything? What if I was allowing myself to be too happy? I was building a house of cards with my emotions, and they were going to get knocked down sooner or later.
“Jenny.”
His voice still sent chills up the backs of my arms, still made the tiny hairs on my neck rise.
I spun around on my chair. “What’s up?”
The eyes, the mouth. They never got old.
“I have a project for you.” He leaned down and spoke directly into my ear. “It’s real this time, I promise.”
I giggled when his breath tickled my ear. I’d never giggled in my life. Ethan Mason turned me into a lot of things I wasn’t before, and now I was a freaking giggler.
“What is it?”
“Salvatore is a free agent at the end of the year. I need a valuation for him. I want to know exactly what he’s worth when I go in to negotiate his contract. The GM in Boston is a real asshole, but he’s good with numbers.”
“Shouldn’t be a problem.”
“Good. I have a meeting there next week.” He leaned down again and I could practically feel his smirk in my ear. He whispered, “You look hot as fuck in that skirt. Do a good job on this and I’ll bury my face in what’s underneath it.”
Filthy. Filthy-mouthed boy.
I crossed my legs at the ankles and squeezed my thighs together. His dirty mouth always heated me up in all the right places, and he knew it. Asshole. Sometimes I think he did it just to torture me all day, so that I’d jump on him as soon as I got to his place. It worked. I had to give him that.
I glanced at the clock, and it was four-fifteen. Salvatore would have to wait until tomorrow.
I got to the bar at a quarter after five and Kelsey waved me over. She had purple streaks in her hair and wore a tattered The Who shirt. We looked like polar opposites. Like an agent meeting with a rock star client. Sometimes, for fun, we just pretended that’s what we were when people were around.
“Hey! Is this for me?” I grabbed the mug of beer on a coaster and started drinking it before she could answer.
“Actually, that was here when I sat down.”
My eyes widened but I kept drinking because I’d already gone too far. I finally sat the glass down. “Seriously?”
Kelsey grinned. “No, I’m just fucking with you.”
“Ass.” I grabbed a few peanuts and annihilated the shells to get to them. “God, I don’t think I ate at the office today. I can’t remember.”
Kelsey’s eyes were trained on my hands shelling peanuts like a machine. “You’re a mangirl. You really are.”
“So what’s going on?”
“Oh no, not me first. My life is the same and boring.” She waggled her eyebrows. “What’s new with you? And don’t give me some stock chitchat answer either. We both know what I want.”
I leaned back and shook my head. “Oh, you want to know about my work? Well—”
She smacked both of her hands down on the table. My beer shook around in the glass. “Cut the shit, lady. You know better than to keep me waiting.”
I chortled. “I mean, nothing much more than what you already know.”
“Nice.” She slowly nodded for emphasis.
Everything about Kelsey was always animated. It’s just the way she was. I loved it.
“He asked me to do a valuation for one of the top players in the league.”
Kelsey’s eyes glazed over. “You and your baseball stuff, I swear. Though them boys in the tight pants—hot.”
I hadn’t thought about Ethan in a baseball uniform, but I think if I’d seen him in one my panties would have disintegrated.
“How’s Dad today?”
I’d been planning everything with Ethan around Dad’s schedule. Of course, Dad tried to shove me out the door every chance he got, and of course Ethan told me to go and hang out with Dad every second that he was awake.
I’d found a pretty good balance between the two and seemed to make it work.
“He’s good. Just being an old stubborn ass like usual.”
“Good. If he’s feisty it means he’s feeling okay.”
“Right. I’ll get worried the day he says he doesn’t want to watch baseball.” Kelsey took a sip of her scotch and swirled the glass.
“Yeah, that’s pretty much the litmus test right there.”
“How are you doing with it?” She set her drink down.
“With what?”
“Nope, no playing stupid. Sit up straight. We have to have an adult conversation for a minute. Your ass is all up in the clouds and now you’re playing dumb.” She pretended like she might get up from her seat.
“Fine.” I stopped fidgeting and put my palms down on the table. “I’m doing okay with it. I’m just worried that—never mind, it’s stupid.”
She reached over and smothered one of my hands with hers. “It’s not stupid. What are you worried about?”
I blew a wayward strand of hair out of my face. “That, I don’t know, that things might be too good right now. Is that dumb?”
“No. But, I mean, you’re allowed to be happy while he’s sick. You know?”
“I know, it’s just—I’m scared that I’m going to let myself be too happy, and it’s going to make the crash worse. Because the crash is coming at some point. We all know it.”
“So you think that if you’re too happy, it’ll make you more miserable when your dad dies? But if you’re already miserable, it’ll make you less miserable?”
“I told you it was dumb.”
“No, no, it’s not dumb.” She gripped tighter on my hand. “Here’s a bit of wisdom from the math dummy over here though.”
I started to protest her calling herself a dummy and she shushed me.
“You’re going to be miserable no matter what. You will hit rock bottom of misery whether you’re on the ground, or up in the clouds. Don’t you think it’ll be easier to fight through that with Ethan by your side?”
“You’re a lot smarter than you think, you know?”
She took her hand off mine and grabbed her scotch, ignoring my question.
“But what if I’m elevating Ethan on this pedestal right now? And, like, he’s really just some flash-in-the-pan moment in my life? Every time I look back on Dad’s death, it’ll be a reminder of how stupid I was to include Ethan in all of that.”
“You’re doing what you do right now. So just stop it. You’re doomsday scenario–ing everything.”
I sat there for a second. “I do that, don’t I?”
“Mmhmm. And it’s absurd, because you have this crazy gift to find the truth in everything. It’s why you play with those silly numbers all day. Then you come in here and do this shit.”
I glanced around at all the empty pub tables, and the half-empty bar. It was slow during happy hour today. “Okay. You win.” I held up my beer. “No more scenario-ing.”
We clanked glasses.
“You know ‘scenario-ing’ isn’t a word, right?” I asked.
“Fuck that. It is now.”