Page 31 of Bed and Breakup (Dial Delights #15)

Molly

“So let me get this straight,” Key says, looking at me like my head is made of cheese. “You and your ex have essentially made a sex pact, agreeing to bang as much as you want while renovating the inn, and when you’re done, you’ll get divorced and walk away, no strings.”

“It’s not a sex pact!” I say, nearly spitting my coffee onto the floor of Key’s studio. “We haven’t even had sex.”

“Yet,” Key says, one eyebrow raised. “But you’ve already kissed and slept in the same bed and, let me guess, you’ve been intentionally wearing your sexiest underwear because every time you make eye contact it feels like it could go down at any moment.”

I don’t say a word, especially not about the lacy black French-cut panties under my denim shorts right now.

“And you don’t foresee this becoming emotional torture for you,” Key says, correctly interpreting my silence. “Even though you’re a Pisces, and romanticizing the past is your drug of choice and you don’t know how to set boundaries.”

I gulp. She’s not wrong. “You’re the one who said to do this the lesbian way.”

Key bites into a vegan scone I brought. “Yeah, but the lesbian way means figuring out how to be friends and then moving on, not falling back in love with your ex and potentially getting your heart broken again,” she says through the crumbs.

“I’m not falling back in love!” I say, indignant. “I just want to get laid. Is that such a crime? Besides, you’re the one who said renovating and selling the inn was a good idea.”

“It is,” Key says. “It’s the cuddling and kissing and sex and acting like you’re back together before signing the dotted line on your divorce papers that sets off alarm bells for me.”

“It’s not like that,” I say, fidgeting with my napkin. “We’re not back together. But being a tiny bit romantic can be part of the closure. A last hurrah.”

Key takes a long sip of her iced coffee as I anxiously await her response.

“Honestly, I like Robin,” she says, weighing her words.

“I still consider her a friend, although I obviously took your side in the non-divorce. I don’t think she’s a bad person.

I don’t even think she’s necessarily a bad match for you.

But Moll, you were so young when you met.

Neither of you had much figured out. And astrologically speaking, Pisces are mutable signs—followers—and Capricorns like Robin are cardinal signs, people who prefer to be in charge.

You used to let her take the lead a lot, until you didn’t follow her to Portland.

And then you felt so adrift because you weren’t used to making decisions alone.

But now you know yourself better. You know what matters to you and how you want to live your life.

So if you want to go back to Robin, short-term or long-term, I’ll support you.

I just hope you’ll be honest with yourself about what you’re doing.

And remember what you’ve learned about yourself to find more balance. ”

Keyana got me into the zodiac stuff, and now I check my favorite astrologer’s website daily. But it’s less fun when she uses the stars to point out my flaws. “I don’t think Robin’s interested in long-term,” I say, frowning. “She’ll move on to her next big thing soon.”

“What do you want?”

It feels like Key just turned a spotlight on me, and the heat burns my skin. “I…um…”

Key sighs. “Just try not to get hurt, okay?”

“Okay,” I say meekly. “So, about those murals…”

“Of course I’m in,” Key says, grabbing a second scone. “I loved painting them the first time, and I bet I can make them even better this time around.”

“Thank you,” I say, relaxing. “Do you want to be involved when we pick the paint colors for the other walls in the rooms? We’re going to the hardware store this afternoon.”

“Nah, y’all can do all that and then I’ll plan my designs to fit your color schemes.”

“Sounds good.” I twist the hem of my tank top as I ask, “And that lawyer you know?”

“I’ll introduce you,” Key says. “I’m not sure if she’s the right person for both real-estate dealings and divorce, but she can at least point you in the right direction.”

“You’re the best,” I say. “I owe you, for real.”

“I still want that window for the studio,” Key says, faux chiding me. “You better not bail on me because you’re back on your HGTV bullshit.”

“Of course I won’t,” I promise. “Robin’s working at Jesse’s restaurant Thursdays through Sundays, so I’m spending that time in my studio. The Drizzled Donuts piece is really close, and you’re up next.”

“Good.” Finished with her scone, Key wipes her mouth with a napkin, stands up, and starts pulling out various oil paints from her storage cabinet. “Speaking of, I saw the window at Wild Card yesterday. It looks gorgeous. Have you taken pictures for your website and socials?”

I cringe. “I forgot.”

“You know, Roxie’s coming back from parental leave next week.” Key points at me with a tube of cobalt-blue paint. “And she’s going to be pissed if you haven’t promoted any of your work from the past four months.”

Dammit. I’d completely forgotten to update my platforms with what I’ve been working on since Roxie, the art agent who represents both me and Keyana, had twins.

She’s going to be peeved. Not even the very expensive double stroller I sent as a gift is going to keep her off my back.

Don’t get me wrong; Roxie is incredibly lovely and our biggest advocate.

But she’s also the queen of chewing me out with a cheerful smile—all in my own best interests, of course.

“I’ll take pictures of the Wild Card window on my way home,” I say sheepishly.

“Good. I’ve got to get to work,” Key says, shuffling through her collection of brushes before selecting one. “Thanks for breakfast.”

“Of course. See you for drinks on Thursday?”

“Duh. And Molly?”

I pause halfway to the door to Key’s front showroom. “Yeah?”

“Even if I have my reservations about the reno, and even if Roxie’s going to try to get you booked and back on the road soon, I’m glad you’re sticking around Eureka a little longer.”

I smile at Key over my shoulder. “Me too.”