𝐇𝐞𝐫 𝐏𝐢𝐥𝐨𝐭 || ᴊᴇɴʟɪsᴀ

𝐧 𝐢 𝐧 𝐞

About a week after menstrual movie night, I sat home waiting for Lisa to arrive. An hour or so before she was due, I received a text. Sorry, still out with friends, won’t make it over tonight. Tomorrow?

Disappointment stung before I could clamp down on my feelings. I tapped out a quick reply. I have that interview and photo thing, not sure when I’ll be done. Friday?

Lisa: Sounds great.

Me: Have fun.

It was okay to say that, right? I could express an interest in her enjoyment of activities unrelated to me? After a moment, I realized my phone was clenched tight in my fist. I released it and dialed Rosé.

My friend picked up where we’d left off last week. “So you’re still seeing her?”

“Yeah.” I cringed, waiting for a smart-
assed response.

“Seven weeks, Kim. She must be a fucking great lay.”

“She is.” I flung my arm over my eyes.

“Rosé…there’ve been sleepovers.”

“Sounds like it’s moving into more than that casual you’ve been ramming down my throat every time we talk.”

“Yeah,” I said softly. “I like her a whole lot. She’s smart, funny and so fucking sexy I get wet just looking at her.”

“Why do I sense there’s a but coming up?”

I smiled. “But, we agreed not to date. Just sex and enjoyment.”

“But?” Rosé prompted again.

“But, I think I just got upset about not seeing her tonight.”

“Kim, I love you so much but you need to get some balls. I know you’re scared of what might happen but if you don’t throw your line in, you’re never going to catch a fish.”

“I know,” I whispered.

“There’s nothing wrong with being cautious. However, you need to start being honest or you’re going to lose what you’ve got. Honey, I gotta go. Jisoo just got home, and she’ll kill me if I don’t help her bring groceries in. I’ll try to call tomorrow and we can talk more.”

“Give Jisoo my love.”

“Will do.”

I swapped my cell for my tablet. My week was ridiculous. Tomorrow in Toledo by myself then back for dinner with an old client. A client who’d left Kim and Tuan but still insisted on inviting me to dinner parties. I always went, and made sure to drop in hints about how well my current clients’ accounts were doing. Meetings all day Wednesday and Thursday. Phoenix again Friday with Mark. Saturday free, fundraiser planning lunch Sunday. I was tired just thinking about my schedule.

Now Lisa wasn’t coming over, my evening looked bare and uninspiring. I ate a banana for dinner and passed time by making small changes to my personal portfolio and trying to plan a vacation. Though it was still over six months until February, when I usually spent two weeks somewhere tropical, it wouldn’t hurt to start a shortlist. Beaches, booze and bikinis—both wearing and looking at other women in them—did wonders for my mental health. This year I’d vacationed in the Caribbean, next year was as yet undecided.

After hours of research, I narrowed it down to Song Saa in Cambodia or Bedarra on the Great Barrier Reef. Mark had been there a few years ago and said it was great. Translating great from typically understated Mark-speak meant it was fucking amazing. I emailed my travel agent and asked for details about each destination. For one person and also for two. Lisa might like a vacation too. Or Mama. Whatever.