“Where should I be?”
Lulu stares sharply. “Not here.”
I shake my head. “I’m not doing something crazy.”
“Why not? That’s what love is.”
“This was just a date.”
“It seems like it’s one fantastic date that’s lasted a few weeks.”
I shrug in admission. She’s not wrong. “Maybe it has.”
“And that brings me to my big question.”
I furrow my brow. “What’s that?”
Before she can answer, though, the bell above the door rings and the UPS man strides in, handing her a package.
“Must be supplies,” I say, offhand.
Lulu smirks as she looks at the front of the envelope. “Supplies for you, lover boy.”
My interest is piqued. “And why do you say that?” I ask as the man leaves.
Lulu holds a package behind her back. “This might as well be tied with a satin bow.”
“But it’s not tied with a satin bow, is it?”
She waves it above her head. “It’s from your mystery woman. Kristen.”
My heart thumps faster. I have no clue what Kristen sent me, but whatever it is, I want it. I reach for the package.
Lulu holds it behind her back.
I roll my eyes. “We are not playing these games.”
“Promise me something.”
“What on earth do you want me to promise you?”
She tells me what she wants me to do after I open the package. I laugh in disbelief. “That’s bonkers.”
She shakes her head. “That’s what you told me to do when I was all up in the air over Leo.”
I shoot her a quizzical look. “I don’t believe that is exactly what I told you to do.”
She waves her hand. “Just open it.”
Like a college prospect waiting for a scholarship notice, I rip open the envelope. And then I grin. Then the grin grows entirely naughty when I read Kristen’s note.
Lulu shakes a finger at me. “Don’t break your promise.”
I don’t plan to. I definitely don’t plan to.
* * *
Later that night, Jeanne texts me with an idea. But I’ve beaten her to it.
Cameron: I’m on it already.
Piper taps her chin, considering the lavender dress at the bridal shop. “So much lavender. I wish the bride chose yellow. I have twenty lavender dresses.”
I arch a brow. “Twenty? That seems an exaggeration.”
“Come to Manhattan. Check out my closet. I solemnly swear I have twenty.”
As Piper holds up the dress to her mirrored reflection, I sink onto the plush pink chair. “I’ll stow away in your bag. Go back with you.”
She spins around, looking at me with sharp eyes. “You could.”
I scoff. “Hide out in your bag?”
“No, goofball. Come back to New York with me.”
“You’re right. I don’t need a job. I’ll leave my condo. And my family.”
“For. The. Weekend.”
“Then what happens after the weekend?”
She taps her chin. “Gee, I don’t know. Fly up another weekend if it works out.”
“Just jet back and forth from Miami to New York?”
She nods exaggeratedly. “Yeah. It’s called a long-distance relationship. You do know it’s been done before? You didn’t invent this scenario of falling for a guy who lives a thousand miles away.”
“Thanks for clarifying. I thought I had.”
“It’s the modern age. People meet online. They date long-distance. They make it work.”
“That’s a lot to make work.”
“And how many evenings have you been talking or texting him on the phone all night long?”
I cast my gaze down, grumbling, “The last several.”
“And I bet some of those texts weren’t entirely safe for work.”
“I did not sext him. I didn’t send any nudes.”
She arches a brow.
I huff. “I sent him a shot of my legs. But it was a tasteful shot.”
“I’ve no doubt he wants a taste of you.”
I laugh, but my stomach is swooping, because I’d like that too. “Maybe,” I say noncommittally.
She laughs, sets the dress on a hook, and strides over to me. She lifts my chin. “You could get on a plane to New York and surprise him, and I bet he’d be ecstatic.”
“That seems a little presumptuous.”
“Then ask him if you should . . . presume.”
But can I ask him that? Are we at that point? I marinate on Piper’s advice as I return home, then I reread the last few nights of texts.
I stare at the photo from our date.
I close my eyes and I recall how it felt.
I open my eyes and grab my phone.
Kristen: This might be crazy, but is there any chance you might want company this weekend? Or want to be my company this weekend?
He doesn’t reply.
And I do my best to pretend that doesn’t equal one very sad Kristen.
The car rumbles through the streets, and in the back seat, I reread my most recent chat with Jeanne.
Jeanne: I’m keeping her busy till you arrive.
Cameron: You’re a good woman.
Jeanne: Also, I beat you with a full house.
Cameron: It’s about time.
Jeanne: Hey, be nice to the little old lady.
Cameron: As if that description fits you at all.
Ten minutes later, my Uber arrives at my destination. I thank the driver and bound up the steps, then knock on the door.