“So, have you told them yet?” Martin runs his hand along my naked back. We’re wrapped in his sheets after a lazy and blissful lovemaking session. “The girls, I mean.”
“About us?” I turn over and face him. “No. I usually don’t share a play-by-play of my sex life with my friends. I wait until we’re out having drinks, and then I just show them pictures.”
“I hope you got my good side.”
“Of course. I got a perfect shot of that tattoo on your ass.”
“Oh really?” He chuckles. “And what does this ass tattoo of mine look like?”
“A big old heart with I love Gilded Age spinsters in the middle. Duh.”
“I still don’t know what that means.” He smirks. “And I meant have you told your friends about you staying here.”
“Not yet. I don’t want to do that over text. They know he had a heart attack, but I’m going to save the rest for a video chat later.”
“I know your dad is in bad shape, but I still think he’d like to help you out financially with the business.”
“Maybe.” I shrug. “But I also think that our relationship has a lot of healing that needs to happen. A loan or investment might complicate that.”
“Possibly. What about this?” He motions between us. “Does this complicate things?”
“What could be complicated about us?” I nuzzle into the space beneath his chin and lay my head on his chest. “You’re my ex–fake boyfriend who I enjoy having amazing sex with.”
“It is kind of amazing.” He kisses my head. “But I’m serious. If you need your space while you sort out what your life is going to look like here, tell me.”
Ever since Smith and I divorced, I’ve been an expert in creating space. Space from my family. Space from men. Frankly, if my friendship with the coven hadn’t started online, I’m not sure I’d have any friends at all. I was the queen of making space, and in a lot of ways, that space served me well. It taught me how to rely on myself. It taught me to figure out who I am and what I want in life. Space was absolutely necessary for me for a time, but I think now I’m ready to start filling that space with people who make me happy.
“I don’t need space,” I say. “But I do need a pencil and some paper. A candle too, if you have it.”
“Are you sacrificing something?”
“Nope.” I wrap the sheets around me in a cocoon. “I’m writing a love letter.”
“To who?”
“To my longest-standing obsession.” I point out the window of Martin’s Airstream to the barely visible crescent. “To the new moon.”
“I thought the new moon was yesterday?”
“She’s OK if you show up a little late.”
“Do you want company?” He hands me a small notebook and pen. “The heat lamp is all I have candle-wise.”
“That’ll work.” I hold the door. “And I think I’ll write this letter by myself, if that’s OK?”
“I’d never dream of coming between the two of you. Take all the time you need.”
So I do.
Chapter 26
“You know,” I say to Ozzie after our third loop around the block before seven a.m. “Now that you’re a swanky dog with a backyard, it would be really great if you started pissing in it, because it’s getting really hard to always find an available Prius. Also, I think that Prius is starting to take it personally.”
My phone chimes, reminding me that I have a video chat scheduled with the Smut Coven later this afternoon, because I am officially working toward being a responsible person who keeps reminders in her phone instead of inked on her hand. Ozzie has just rejected another truck when I notice a familiar black Pom on the opposite side of the street.
“Hey.” Smith waves as he crosses the street toward me. “Are you screening my texts now?”
“Huh?”
“I just texted you.”
I look at my phone, and sure enough, there’s a text from “Martin” telling me to turn around. I really need to change Smith’s name in my contacts.
“Sorry.” I give him a hug. “I meant to reach out, but things have been a little hectic. Did everything end up OK with Sarah? She seemed a little unhappy finding us in your parents’ kitchen the other night.”
“She recovered.” He shakes his head. “She’s got a good heart.”
“The best. She gave me the dress off her back.”