Page 43 of Forever Only Once

“We ate our weight in sushi first,” I said, and Myra just shook her head. “I swear, you and your sushi.”

“What? It’s good. And it’s not like I had onions. So, no onion breath.”

“No, just raw fish breath,” Dakota said wryly.

“Maybe. But I really wasn’t caring about that when his lips were on mine,” I said. I was surprised that I was even going into this much detail, but these were my friends, and I needed to talk it out. I was holding so much in these days. Sometimes, things slipped. And I trusted them. I knew I should trust them with everything, and maybe that day would come, but this would do for now.

“Are you going to see him again?” Dakota asked.

“Of course, she is,” Paris said. “Because she wouldn’t walk away from something like this for anything. Right?” Paris asked.

“I, uh, yeah. But we haven’t made plans yet. I’m in the middle of a busy semester and research. I already had this time scheduled off, but I should really be home grading.”

“We’re all busy,” Dakota said. “In fact, let’s get eating because I need to head back to the café after this. But that doesn’t matter. As I said, we’re all busy, but we’re making time for us, and you’re making time for Cross.”

“You are going to try and make time for him, right?” Myra asked.

“Yes, I’m going to try.”

“Why do you sound so resigned about that?” Paris asked.

I didn’t say anything. Wasn’t sure I could.

“Tell us more about him.” We all looked at Dakota. “What? He’s part of this now, even though he’s not the guy we set you up with at first.”

“No, he’s better.” My eyes widened at Paris’s words. “Sometimes, I do make mistakes.”

I clutched my hand over my heart. “No. Shocking.”

Paris laughed. “Oh, shush. Let me just say that if I do make mistakes, they sometimes end up with the best results. After all, you met Cross because of me.”

“I met Cross because his coworker is an asshole, and a little girl lost her appendix. That’s not the best way to meet someone.”

“But it is a way,” Myra said honestly. “So, what does he do again?”

I explained about Chris Cross Furniture, and they all nodded. “Mother and Father have a few pieces from him. He’s quite talented,” Myra said.

I vaguely remembered that. “I had heard of him even before he went into detail about what he did. He’s an artist.”

“I will never understand paying that much for furniture,” Dakota said, her gaze on the video stream where she watched her son play. “However, that’s probably because I grew up differently than you guys.”

I didn’t feel bad about the fact that I had grown up with money or that I still had it. And Dakota wasn’t trying to make me feel bad at all. She was just stating the truth. We all came from different walks of life, but we were friends now. And that was all that mattered.

“I want something from him now,” Paris said. “I probably can’t afford it, but I’m sure we could get the friends’ discount. I mean, you are going to be sleeping with him, after all.”

“Seriously? You’re going to whore me out for a piece of furniture you don’t even know you want?” I asked, levity in my tone.

“I do what I have to,” Paris said, her eyes dancing with laughter.

“You haven’t even seen his work,” Myra said.

“If your parents have some, it’s stunning. Right?”

“Oh, it is that, but I’m pretty sure they bought the most pretentious piece of art he’s ever made,” Myra said dryly.

“That is probably true,” I said, laughing.

Myra’s parents were not the best people. They regularly put others down and did their best to control her life. The fact that Myra was in Colorado with me now, rather than back in California where we had grown up, was a testament to that.