Page 25 of Can We Skip to the Good Part?

ELEVEN

Text Messages and Tagines

“ Y ou never told me about your night at Sally Sue’s.” Rachel sat in the middle of the living room, painting her toes a deep plum. She believed that biting her lower lip improved her accuracy, and, honestly, it probably did.

With that question, Ella was immediately transported back in time. It had been two days since the night out to Sally Sue’s with the book club. Two days since Max had turned her world upside down with that sexy encounter in Stevie’s living room.

And now Rachel was looking at her while she thought about kissing Max.

Alarm bells blared, and her bowl of Oatmeal Hoopties went still in her grasp.

“Right. The other night happened.” A pause because hell, what should she say?

“Yeah. It was great. I can’t believe you haven’t mentioned that place before.

The whole scene is like something out of a dream … or a very western acid trip.”

“Thank you for getting that.” Rachel looked up from her toe-painting. “It’s a good time, yes. And a highly effective venue for picking up chicks, but I can’t get past the gaudy theming that borders on aesthetically criminal, ya know? At least try for complementary colors.”

“Maybe Sally Sue wasn’t a design major in school.”

Ella felt a little defensive about little Sally Sue’s Western Safari.

It now had a special place in her heart after the whirlwind night with Max and the Weepers.

Had she thought of anything else since? Of course she hadn’t.

Max seemed to edge her way into every other topic like she owned all of Ella’s thoughts.

“Maybe she should have been,” Rachel said and went back to her toes. “Who was there?”

And here we go . “Oh. Just book club people. The same group as always. Remember I told you about Stevie, who came out after twenty-some years of marriage? Well, this was her informal debut on the scene.”

“I love that for her.” A pause. “But I take it you had to deal with Max.”

“She was there,” Ella said, placing her bowl in the dishwasher. “Do you work today?” It was later than usual for Rachel to be home, and the tidbit seemed like a great segue out of the dangerously loaded Max conversation.

“Yeah, but I’ve stayed late all week. I’m taking a leisurely morning. I’ve earned it.”

“Nice! I think I’m gonna invest some time in social media today. See if I can drum up some more business for Cover Crush.”

“I’m so impressed with you, Ella. You’re dealt this blow, you move across the country, and you’re already carving out not just a new social world, but also a whole new career trajectory.” She took a moment to apply a quick coat of lip gloss. “We could all take a page from your book.”

The vote of confidence and the way Rachel framed her past few months really did make Ella feel like she’d accomplished something important.

Her life was by no means a success just yet, but she was on her way, and someone else had noticed, too.

“I think you just made my morning. Thank you. Sincerely.”

“You’re welcome. Now, can you make mine by hitting brew on a cup of coffee for me while I change into my work ensemble?”

“You got it, Rach,” Ella said like a woman on a mission and grabbed for one of Rachel’s expensive sage travel mugs. She had exactly four and kept them lined up in the cupboard, like soldiers ready for a department store skirmish.

It was in that exact moment that a text came in. She checked the readout. Max . She leaned against the counter, unable to suppress her smile. She’d wondered if she’d hear from Max this morning, and here she was.

I hope your morning is a good one. BTW, I’m sitting at my desk thinking about you whether I should be or not.

Well, that did it. Ella read the words a second time, her heart rate already climbing as she remembered Max’s mouth on hers.

The way her gaze had searched Ella’s face in the moonlight.

Her stroking gently between Ella’s legs.

God help her . She’d never been this sexually invested in someone she’d never even gotten naked with.

She waited as the Keurig sputtered and hissed, its warm-up routine now sounding decidedly sexy in its own right.

What was happening to her? The pent-up energy had her sexualizing kitchen appliances. Fantastic.

“What’s going on over there?” Rachel asked, dancing on one foot as she slid the other into a light-blue pump that perfectly matched her dress. She looked soft yet sophisticated. “You seem somewhere far away and awesome. How do I get there?”

“Me?” Ella stood ramrod straight, a first grader caught with a handful of stolen cookies in her mouth. She placed her phone on the counter. “Oh. Just thinking about the weather forecast because it’s supposed to be about five degrees warmer today and that just, uh, fucking rocks. I’m ready.”

“I’ll take warmer weather,” Rachel said, and breezed past Ella just as her phone buzzed again. Rachel picked it up, given that she was closest. “Message for you. Well, this is certainly interesting.”

Ella’s blood turned to ice. Dammit. Why had she set her phone down? “Oh yeah?” She braced.

Rachel flipped around and showed Ella her screen. “Your brother wants to know why your mom always insists on French restaurants.”

Every muscle in her body went slack with relief. “That’s Mom for you. A big fan of all things butter.”

“God, I can get behind that. Gotta run. Love you,” she said and placed a smacking kiss on Ella’s cheek. “See you after work if it doesn’t kill me first. We have corporate visiting, so everything has to be perfect down to mannequin feet.”

“It will be,” Ella said, still celebrating the bullet dodging from moments ago. “And I never thought about the fact that mannequins even have feet.”

Rachel quirked her head. “Ella. How in the world do you think they stand up?”

“Rachel. I’ve never bothered with mannequin magic. I just assumed there was some sort of stand or something.”

“Well, they have feet, and those feet must be styled. That’s where I come in.”

“Well, make the mannequin feet pop, okay? Montclair’s depends on it.”

“Now you understand my life. Bye. Make good choices.”

Rachel had meant that last part as a joke, but the sentiment zinged Ella all the same.

Because she wasn’t sure she was doing that at all.

She also wasn’t sure she had any control over those choices when it came to Max.

The two of them were careening toward each other like two stars caught in each other’s gravity, drawn closer with every passing moment.

She wasn’t sure there was anything she could do to intervene, but it was getting to the point where she wasn’t sure she wanted to.

So, where did that leave her with Rachel?

This was a situation she was going to have to deal with sooner rather than later, or face the flammable repercussions.

She grabbed her phone, biting her bottom lip as she typed.

I was thinking about you, too.

She would sort it all out in time. She would.

Max fidgeted with the cuffs of her dress shirt as she entered the restaurant her mother had selected for their lunch.

She was six minutes late, despite leaving a ten-minute window in case of traffic.

There’d also been an emergency call from Sonya that one of her clients desperately needed to move up their next session because her soon-to-be ex was making all kinds of uncharacteristic threats that involved the destruction of property.

She’d pinched the bridge of her nose, realizing she was going to be late now, acutely aware of their noon reservation and her mother’s penchant for timeliness.

She’d had the lesson drilled into her head from an early age and had paid the heavy price for receiving a tardy on her attendance record in high school exactly twice before she never made the mistake again.

“What should I do with them?” Sonya asked on speaker.

Max raised her gaze, letting her hand drop. “See if you can squeeze them in on Friday. If it doesn’t seem like a settlement is imminent, I will have both parties schedule a hearing before Judge Wheeler. There’s only so much I can do.”

“I think you’re going to get him back to the bargaining table. Give him No-Nonsense-Max.”

“She’s definitely next. He’s trying to run right over the reasonable version.”

“His poor wife.”

“My thoughts exactly. How do these people end up in these marriages?” It had been a lesson she’d learned time and time again.

Love only lasted so long before you sat across the table from your significant other, trying to figure out who got custody of the forks.

But then she thought of Ella and something in her shifted.

Ella made her wonder. She challenged Max’s sense of what might be possible and threw her preconceived notions about the long term out the window.

After the debacle that was her and Rachel, she was pretty sure her exclusive entanglement days were over.

But for Ella, she might be willing to step out onto a limb again. The what-if dangled and tempted.

She’d finished up the call with Sonya and took a moment to gather herself in the waiting area of the restaurant, which meant fidgeting, something she only did when in her mother’s presence.

“There you are,” she’d said dismissively when the host deposited her at the table.

She kissed her mother’s incredibly soft cheek and took in the familiar scent of her jasmine perfume, a gift her father presented her dutifully every Christmas.

“I am so sorry I’m late. I had a client who needed a last-minute scheduling miracle, but Sonya and I managed to work it out. Did you have a chance to look over the menu?”

“I already know the menu. Don’t you?” The Moroccan-inspired café was a favorite of her mother’s.

“Yes, actually, I do.” She swallowed her defenses, knowing they’d be no good to her here.