Текст книги "Surrender to Love"
Автор книги: J. C. Valentine
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Surrender to Love
Night Calls – 3
by
J.C. Valentine
“Never be afraid of a scar. It simply means you were stronger than whatever tried to hurt you.”
Unknown
1
“Patti? Shit!” Kyle flew off the bed, scooping up a pair of discarded jeans and stumbling out of the bedroom as he tried to dress himself. “Patti, wait!”
Charging into the living room, Patti scooped up her purse as she blew through the front door. She fumbled for the right key, unable to see clearly through the red haze covering her eyes. “Screw you, Kyle!” she shouted over her shoulder. A couple leaped out of her way as she stormed down the stairs, and cut them off on the sidewalk heading to her car.
“It’s not what you think!” Kyle called after her, even as he struggled to hoist up his jeans. He jogged up behind her and slammed his hand down on the door of her car, just as she began to open it, forcing it shut.
“Then what is it?” Patti shouted, rounding on him. She felt the heat of her fury boiling in her blood as she fought with everything she had in her not to slaughter him like the pig he was. “Was that not a woman I just caught you ramming your dick into? Huh?” She shoved him, momentarily satisfied when he stumbled back. It wasn’t an easy feat to manage considering he stood several inches taller than she did and outweighed her by at least sixty pounds. Hell hath no fury, she laughed to herself.
“Baby, come on,” Kyle said as if he were trying to calm a vicious animal. “You know I love you.” He stepped into her and encircled her waist. “She means nothing to me, baby doll. It was a mistake.”
Patti silently fumed as Kyle drew her up against his bare chest and kissed the top of her head. She didn’t have to close her eyes to envision Kyle’s bare ass flexing as he pounded into the faceless woman. Every detail was clear as a damn bell. The only thing notable about the woman was the glimpse Patti caught of her long, lean legs wrapped firmly around Kyle’s hips before Patti grabbed the only weapon available to her—a pair of tacky stripper heels—and whipped them as hard as she could at the back of Kyle’s head.
She stayed only long enough to make sure she hit her target before getting the hell out of Dodge. The last thing she expected was to have the lying cheat run after her. Putting in overtime at the office? What an idiot she was.
Balling her hands into fists at her sides, Patti squeezed her eyes shut as Kyle continued to feed sweet nothings in her ear. Fuck, she could smell the bitch’s perfume on his skin, and it was designer knock-off. Talk about adding insult to injury.
Unable to take it anymore, Patti jolted back. “Don’t touch me,” she snarled. “Don’t you ever put your hands on me again.” She shoved against his chest once more, and he allowed her to set him back a few steps.
“What the hell is your problem, Patti?” Kyle’s face screwed up in disgust.
“Is that a serious question? You’re my problem, Kyle. Catching you between another woman’s legs is my problem!”
“I said it was a mistake! What more do you want from me?” he shouted and held out his arms, his wrists facing the sky. “Do I need to give you a bucket of my blood for you to understand that I didn’t mean it? Shit, I’m sorry!”
Patti rolled her eyes at his dramatic display. “Oh, please. You love yourself too much to bleed for anyone, much less me. And don’t for one second think I believe that you’re sorry about a damn thing.” She pointed her finger in his face and glared. “You showed your true colors today, buster. You’re lucky I didn’t go Lorena Bobbitt on your ass.”
Kyle took another step back, eying her warily. “You’re fucking crazy. You don’t threaten a man’s dick, ever.”
Patti couldn’t hold back her laugh. “There’s not much there to threaten.”
Kyle glared and threw up his hands. “Whatever, bitch. Consider yourself dumped.”
When he started to walk away, Patti felt her face heat and her body vibrate. She turned to face his retreating back. “Consider this, Kyle. The next time you find yourself walking across the street, be sure to look both ways. You never know when a tetchy ex-girlfriend might suddenly develop a lead foot.”
“Fucking crazy,” Kyle shouted back at her, but Patti was already sliding in behind the wheel of her car. Firing up the engine, she revved the motor a few times, the aggressive purr of her ’68 Pontiac GTO drawing attention from a few admiring passersby, and then peeled out into traffic.
Evil, murderous thoughts flipped through her mind as she took hairpin turns that her more subdued Toyota would never survive. Once she hit the expressway on-ramp, she pressed the pedal to the floorboard, opening the engine up. Some people turned to cigarettes to calm their nerves, some alcohol. Patti’s drug of choice had always been speed—ever since her father towed home the rusted out hunk of metal and set it down in their driveway, declaring it a father-daughter project.
It took the better half of her formative years, literally putting their blood, sweat, and tears into bringing it back to life, but by her sixteenth birthday they’d finally gotten the clunker up and running. It was a time she looked back on fondly, and after her father passed away a few years later, driving the car had become the only way she could find relief from whatever crap the world tossed her way. When she fitted herself behind that wheel, listening to it roar to life, feeling the powerful engine rumble beneath her, she could almost imagine her father sitting beside her, enjoying the ride, too.
For old time’s sake, Patti flipped on the radio and popped in her favorite CD. As she coasted toward her exit, the first strains of the piano started and she began to sing her favorite Whitesnake song. She nodded and hummed along as she slowed at the stoplight. When “Here I go Again” reached its hook, her fingers tapped out the drums and her heart beat a tempo that matched the mood set by the music. Not only did she love her 80s hair bands, they were her feel good, heartbreak remedy.
By the time she made it into the office her mood was a little less dark than it had been. She took a moment to serve herself a cup of coffee before settling in behind her desk. She spent the bulk of her morning getting lost in numbers, one of her favorite things to do, and before she knew it, it was time for lunch.
Leaning down, she pulled her sack lunch from the bottom desk drawer and unwrapped the flattened bologna and cheese sandwich. Halfway through her meal, Mr. Peterson cracked the door to his office and leaned his head out.
“Patricia, good. I’m glad you’re still here.” His expression was pinched. “When you’re finished with your lunch, I’d like to see you in my office.”
Patti nodded, sucking bits of cheese and bread from the backs of her teeth. “Sure thing, Mr. Peterson.” It wasn’t unusual for her boss to ask her to his office, but the look on his face made the fine hairs on the back of her neck stand at attention.
Rushing through the rest of her sandwich and washing it down with the last of her Diet Coke, Patti balled up her garbage and tossed it in the trash as she crossed the office. Pausing outside the closed door, she inhaled a steeling breath, rapped on the door once, and let herself inside.
Mr. Peterson sat hard at work at his desk, the pen in his hand working feverishly across the stack of papers laid out before him. “Have a seat.” He didn’t bother to look up from his task.
Easing down on the stiff chair, Patti sat almost rigidly upright while she waited for him to begin. Nerves began to settle in and when Mr. Peterson cleared his throat, she jumped.
“Patti,” he started, setting his pen aside and folding his hands in front of him. “You’ve been with Peterson and Wendle for a long time. Your record here has been great, your work phenomenal. I’m not sure you’ve ever even taken a sick day. What I am trying to say is that, we appreciate everything you have done to help the company grow in today’s market.”
A proud smile spread across her face. “Thank you, Mr. Peterson. That means a lot to me.”
Mr. Peterson shifted in his chair, his hands finding the lapels of his blazer and smoothing them down his barreled chest. He cleared his throat. “What I have to tell you is difficult, and I’m afraid there is no easy way to say it, so I’ll be blunt.” He looked up, fixing dark, serious eyes on her. “Patti, we’re letting you go.”
Eyes widening in shock, all Patti could do was look down at her hands clasped tightly in her lap. Her fingers were turning white. “But you said…” Her brows pulled down. “I don’t understand.”
Mr. Peterson pulled open one of his desk drawers as he spoke. “I know this comes as a shock. However, as the company grows and expands and we search for new ways to streamline its core structure, we find there are certain areas where we could stand to cut back.” He stretched out his arm to her, a crisp white envelope clutched between his thick fingers. “We just don’t need two accountants on the payroll.”
Patti blinked several times before reaching out to accept the envelope. “But Lisa has only been working here for a little over a year,” she said, baffled. “I thought cuts were usually made according to last hired first fired.”
Mr. Peterson grabbed for his pen, rolling it between his fingers. “That’s how some businesses operate, yes, but in this case, it was a matter of who cost the company more. You’ve been with us for five years, Ms. Jacobs. You’ve maxed out your raises, have full health care, work overtime most days, and you don’t take any vacations. The fact of the matter is we just can’t afford you.”
Patti couldn’t believe her ears. They couldn’t afford her? “I thought you said the company was growing?”
“It is,” he stated simply. “But the rules of the game have changed. We’re no longer required to hire in full-time and the benefits we used to give no longer apply.” Standing, Mr. Peterson made his way around the desk. “I understand this may be difficult for you to absorb. If you’d like, you are welcome to take the rest of the day off.”
He held his hand out in a silent plea for her to get moving. Patti rose stiffly to her feet, the envelope in her hand burning her skin like molten lava, and allowed him to lead her to the door. “Do I get to at least finish out the week?” she asked quietly.
“If you’d like,” he agreed.
“Okay.” She nodded solemnly. “I think I’ll head home for the day, though.”
“I think that’s a good idea.”
Mr. Peterson observed from the doorway as Patti cleaned up her desk, shut down the computer, and gathered her purse. He nodded to her as she passed by on her way out. She couldn’t even muster a smile.
* * *
“Rise and shine.” Jon leaned over the blonde who pretended to still be asleep and whispered in her ear. “I’ve got fifteen minutes left before I’m late to work. It’s time to get up.” For the life of him, he couldn’t recall her name, but it didn’t matter anyway since she wouldn’t be sticking around much longer.
“Mmm.” Rolling over, his after party snack from last night’s bar crawl raised her arms over her head and stretched, pushing her bare breasts toward the ceiling. “Can’t I just hang out here until you get back?”
Jon gave her a placating smile. “It’ll be late when I get back.” Her lips pursed out in disappointment, and Jon just couldn’t stand the idea of sending a woman away unsatisfied. He had to uphold his reputation, after all. Lowering his head, he wrapped his lips around one pert nipple and sucked.
“Ah, baby, yes!” she shouted dramatically, grasping his head in her hands.
Tunneling his hand under the duvet, Jon let his questing fingers slip between her legs and into her slick heat. In no time flat, he had her writhing and praising his name to the god above.
“Call me?” she asked hopefully, as he guided her out the door.
He glanced at the clock, noting he had five minutes to spare. Why couldn’t women just have sex and leave it at that? It couldn’t just be a man thing, could it? Opening the door for her, he took a moment to pull her up against him, enjoying the feel of her firm breasts crushed against his chest for the last time. Framing her face with his hands, he leaned down and covered her mouth with his. It was a crying shame that he would never see this one again, because the way she sucked on his bottom lip was making him have flashbacks to last night when she had her mouth fitted around his cock.
He felt himself get hard again and before he dragged her back into the bedroom, he drew back, disengaging himself completely. She looked up at him with heavy-lidded eyes and a drunken smile on her face.
“I have to go,” he told her, pushing her outside and following behind her. After closing the door and locking up, he led her to her car with his hand pressing firmly against the small of her back.
Before she got in, she turned back to him, standing on her tiptoes to kiss his lips once more. “Call me?” she repeated.
“Maybe,” he said with a playful smile, one that he knew would get him off the hook and get her out of his driveway. Apparently, his answer was good enough for her because she left before she could realize that they’d never exchanged numbers. Oops.
He made it into the office ten minutes overdue, but it didn’t matter anyway since he owned the place. He wasn’t there but a couple of minutes before there came a knock on the door.
“Come in,” Jon barked as he flipped through his stack of mail.
The door cracked open to admit his favorite person in the world: his accountant. “Good morning, Mr. Bradshaw,” Jenna said meekly as she crossed the room and took a seat in front of his desk.
“Morning, Jenna,” Jon said brightly. He tossed his mail down with a slap and settled into his chair, folding his hands over his stomach and swaying side to side. “What brings you by? I trust the accounts are all in order. No sudden crash in the market I should worry about?”
“Oh, no, sir,” she said with a soft smile.
That’s what Jon liked most about Jenna. She was shy and timid, but she could crunch numbers like Shaun T crunched abs. If not for her, he’d be a rich man living in a trailer with an Escort parked outside on the curb, instead of the million-dollar condo with a BMW parked out front. He admitted it. He wasn’t the best with money, but having a team of experts to keep him in line definitely helped.
Jenna proceeded to place several file folders on his desk and he leafed through them mainly for show, since he had absolutely zero interest in whatever was inside. If she said everything was good, he trusted it was good.
“Stocks are up two and a half percent, which more than makes up for the recent rise in overhead costs,” she explained, keeping it short and simple like she knew he preferred. “Our sales rep reported to me this morning that Mr. Larson’s latest project has broken through to the Times Best Sellers, which is already showing promising numbers, but we won’t know how well it’s truly done until the last earnings report comes in at the end of the month. And, I’m leaving.”
Jon was on such a high from all the good news that he almost missed her little bombshell. His hands grasped the armrests and he sat forward, his back ramrod. “Excuse me?” He laughed. “I’m not sure I heard you right. You said you’re leaving?”
Jenna’s expression was full of fear and uncertainty. “Yes, sir,” she said, her voice trembling. “I’m getting married this weekend—”
Jon held his hand up to stop her. “You’re engaged?”
“For two years, sir,” she said, her voice growing stronger.
“Why am I only now hearing about this? I would have gotten you a gift or whatever they do for this kind of thing.” He waved his hand through the air and grabbed for the phone. “I’ll tell Poppy to pick something up for your wedding then.”
“That’s not necessary,” Jenna rushed out. Jon set his phone down gently and stared at her, waiting for her to continue. “I’ve really loved working here with all of you. It’s been a great learning experience. But I am giving you my notice.”
Jon was not pleased. He was actually pretty irritated, but he tried to keep his emotions under wraps so he wouldn’t scare the poor thing. Already she looked like she might faint from the stress. “Why not take a few weeks off,” he suggested. “Get married, enjoy your honeymoon, and when things settle down, come back. Why quit? You said it yourself, you love working here.”
“I do. I did.” Jenna sighed, as her head dropped down so only the rim of her sophisticated glasses were visible through the curtain of golden brown hair. “Tim is old school, you know? His parents raised him to believe that the wife should stay home with the kids, while he works to take care of them.”
Jon didn’t like the sound of this, and he let her know it. “This is the twenty-first century, Jenna. Women work to help contribute to the household, too. Why go through years of school and training to get where you are today only to give it all up?”
The thin line of her lips and downcast eyes let him know he was getting to her, but whether it was a good or bad thing, he couldn’t be certain. “I appreciate your concern, Mr. Bradshaw, but I’m getting married and I respect my husband’s wishes. I’m sorry you find that difficult to understand, but it is what it is.”
Jon watched her silently for a moment longer, meeting her eyes dead on. No, he didn’t understand it, nor did he ever want to. He was raised in a home where his mother and father both held jobs and pursued their dreams outside of the house and family, with the notion that a person needed to fulfill themselves before they could be truly fulfilled in life. He had never been able to grasp the nineteen fifties housewife ideal.
“So that’s it? You’re leaving me?”
“Yes, sir.”
With a resigned sigh, Jon stood up and extended his hand. “Well then, Ms. Houseman, congratulations on your marriage and good luck.”
“Thank you.”
He walked her to the door, pausing just inside of it. “If you ever need anything, just call.”
Jenna nodded. “Okay.”
“And I trust you can cut your own severance check without robbing me blind?”
“That’s a pretty tall order, but I’ll try.” She smirked.
“Good, and make it double. I don’t want people thinking they’re working for a scrooge.” He closed the door on her shocked face and plopped back down behind his desk. It sucked royal ass that Jenna was leaving. He was just boasting to his parents the other night about how well things were going for him and how much he had planned for the company’s future. Now, he was out an accountant, and a damn fine one at that. If he didn’t get another one soon, he’d be closer to living in that trailer than he’d ever imagined.
2
Patti finally understood the term going stir crazy, because she was one silent moment and two soap operas away from becoming completely bat shit, out of her mind, loony tunes.
She’d finished out her week at Peterson and Wendle yesterday—a day early because she just couldn’t stand being somewhere she wasn’t wanted—and without a single idea of how to move ahead, she felt lost. She knew she needed to start looking for a job and putting in applications, but her heart just wasn’t in it. Maybe it had something to do with the shock of having her livelihood yanked out from under her, or maybe she was just having so much fun sitting at home, alone, with nothing to do but stuff her face with sugary snacks that she’d completely lost her drive to continue being a productive member of society. Okay, so it’d only been a day, and maybe she was being a tad overly dramatic, but she had loved her job. Without it to help keep her occupied, she had nothing to distract her from her memories.
Unwrapping a fresh brownie square, Patti didn’t even bother with the pretense of nibbling. She just dove right in and had it gone in less than four bites. She’d probably put on ten pounds already, but it was difficult to tell for sure since the only thing she’d worn since stepping out of her work attire was a pair of aged sweats, and who cared? It wasn’t as if she had anyone to impress anyway.
She was reaching for the box of half-eaten donuts when her cell phone chimed. It took two tries, but she finally managed to rock herself out of the recliner and grab the phone before it transferred to voice mail. “Hello?”
“Is the pity party of one still on?” Jules asked in an unusually cheerful manner.
“It’s not a pity party,” Patti said in offense. “I’m just basking in my freedom. It’s like a temporary vacation. I never took one before, remember?”
“Only because you’re a workaholic,” Jules reminded her. “And if I had to guess, you’re probably about to crawl out of your skin with all the downtime your logging, am I right?” Patti grumbled. “Excuse me? I didn’t catch that.”
Rolling her eyes, Patti slumped back into her chair and huffed. “I said yeah, you’re right. But what can I do about it? It’s not as if I can jump on a plane to Tahiti. I have bills to pay and no job. I need every penny in my account.”
The whir of city traffic muffled Jules’ voice, and Patti assumed that she was probably headed to her favorite deli while on her lunch break. She used to have lunch breaks. Sometimes she even left her desk to take one, too. Never again, she thought dejectedly.
“I never said you had to go on a vacation, but you do need to get out of the house,” Jules went on.
“I don’t know if I’m in the mood for going out at the moment.”
“Oh, come on. Since when are you not in the mood to go out?” Jules voice rose in disbelief. “I think one day of moping around the house is more than enough. You need to get out, take a breath of fresh air, and remember what it means to have fun. Embrace this time in your life, girl!”
“I don’t know…” Nibbling on her lip, Patti recalled their girls’ nights, the drinks, and the laughs. The men. Then she thought of all the men she’d dated and then broken up with, which spiraled back to Kyle and what she’d walked in on earlier that week. It all left a bad taste in her mouth, and what little interest she might have had, vanished. “You guys should just go without me. I’m no good to anyone right now.”
“That’s the depression talking,” Jules said in her no-nonsense way. “You need to get out so you can shake this thing off before it sucks you down so far we’ll need to hire a crew of naked firemen to dig you out.”
A small smile tugged at Patti’s lips. “And they’d be naked why?”
“Duh,” Jules said, sounding exasperated. “A group of men in uniform coming to your rescue is one thing, but a group of hot men with abs of steel charging to your rescue, their dongs slapping in the breeze? Shit, that would be enough to wake a woman from a coma.”
“You’re an idiot,” Patti said through a fit of giggles.
“Yeah, but you love this idiot,” Jules replied confidently. “Look, I’ve got to go, but before I do, say you’ll come out with us tonight. It’s just dinner and drinks, nothing fancy since Piper isn’t really up for it.”
Piper was integral to their little union, implanted from Alabama a few years ago. Last year, she’d gone to work for some publishing company and ended up working for Satan himself, and then fell head over heels for him. Now she was married with a kid on the way and Patti couldn’t be happier for her. She was living the dream. One that Patti hoped to someday duplicate for herself.
“How is she doing, by the way?” Patti asked. Last she’d seen her friend, she’d been sporting a pretty round stomach and was talking about taking some time off work to rest up before the birth.
“She’s fine, but if you ask me, she looks like she’s ready to pop any day now. It might be the last time we get to go out together as a group,” Jules said with a hopeful note in her voice.
“I know what you’re trying to do and it’s not gonna work,” Patti said sternly.
“Sure it is,” Jules said brightly. “And do you know how I know this?”
Patti was afraid to ask, but she played along anyway, curious to hear her answer. “How?”
“Because we’re coming over tonight and dragging you out of that broken down chair, forcing you out of those stained-up, hole-infested sweats, and dragging you out by the hair if needed. We’ll be there by seven.”
Jules hung up on her and Patti set the phone aside, looking down at her baggy, stained, and moth-eaten clothing, and sighed. How did she know? Had she become that predictable, or was her friend a psychic? Fearing the former to be true, Patti dragged herself from the chair and took a look around her living room. Discarded wrappers from various Hostess snacks littered nearly every surface. With the curtains drawn, it felt like a cave, and when she ran her fingers through her uncombed hair, the sheer amount of grease she felt built up there disgusted her.
The full weight of her reality settled on her shoulders, bogging her down. Jules was right, she was depressed. And the only way she knew to fix it, was to drag herself out of the trenches and climb back on the horse, and the best way to start down that road was with a shower.
* * *
“Someone, get me a double vodka neat, stat.” Patti dropped her purse under the table and plopped down in one of the empty chairs.
Jules volunteered, taking orders for everyone at the table. “Don’t start without me!” she shouted over the music as she bounced off to the bar. She’d lied earlier about bringing the gang out for an intervention. It ended up being just her, but her forceful, take no prisoners attitude more than made up for it, and she had Patti primed and ready to go in under an hour.
Now, Patti looked around the table at the familiar faces of her friends. To her right sat Sheila, then Lynn, and then Piper. Beside Piper sat an unfamiliar face. The woman appeared small, like herself, with vibrant red hair twisted high on top of her head; however, she was a complete stranger to her.
Patti glanced around the table at her girls, making eye contact with each one briefly in askance.
“Oh, right,” Sheila said, perking up. She pointed her fluorescent green nail mere inches from the strange woman’s face. “That’s Piper’s friend, Poppy. Poppy works for Piper’s boss, Felix, who she is also screwing.”
“Sheila!” Piper scolded. An laugh of embarrassment bubbled from her lips. “What did we talk about?”
Sheila huffed and rolled her eyes. “Sorry, I forgot.” With raised eyebrows, she turned back to Patti. “They’re ‘making love’ because they’re in love,” she said, making air quotes.
Patti turned her head to Piper and hitched her thumb over her shoulder at Sheila. “Is she drunk?”
“Good Lord is she ever,” Piper said dramatically. “She and Tom got into an argument or something, so apparently she’s made it her personal mission to drink her weight in liquor.”
“And what about you?” Patti asked, staring pointedly at her protruding belly. “You’d better not be drinking too, or I’ll personally kick your ass.”
Piper held up her hands in surrender. “Hey, I’m just here for moral support. If I so much as thought about taking a drink, Tate would bend me over his knee and whip my ass red.”
“Hey now! Save it for the bedroom!” Lynn cried, covering her ears. “Nobody wants to hear about the kinky crap you’re into.”
“Speak for yourself,” Sheila said with a mischievous laugh. “I could use a little more kink in my life.”
“Who’s kinky? What did I miss?” Jules dipped back into her chair and slid Patti her double shot.
“Piper likes to get spanked,” Sheila divulged.
“I do not!” Piper’s face turned crimson.
Patti gulped her drink, tuning out their conversation. The club was packed. It was also loud. She longed for the comfort of her cozy recliner and baggy clothes. Not that she didn’t enjoy her time with her friends, but it felt like too much stimulation too soon. Trying to shrug herself from her quickly spiraling thoughts, she turned to face the woman seated to her left.
“So, what’s your story?” she asked, tipping her head at the new girl, Poppy, she thought her name was.
Poppy smiled shyly and glanced at Piper as if asking her permission. “Go ahead and tell them,” Piper encouraged her. “We’re all friends here. It’s safe,” she said with laughter in her eyes.
Poppy shifted under the weight of half a dozen sets of eyes resting on her, and cleared her throat. “My boyfriend wants me to sell my house and come live with him in the city.”
Sheila jolted back in her seat, covering her mouth to silence her gasp of mocked outrage. “That scumbag! Asking you to move in with him. Just who does he think he is?”
Poppy frowned.
“Knock it off, spaz,” Jules warned her. “You’re getting belligerent and if you can’t collect your shit, I’m calling in reinforcements.” She raised her hand, calling over a member of the wait staff, and ordered a bottle of water.
“You’re cutting me off?” Sheila whined, pressing her hand to her chest.
“Yep,” Jules said, and then turned her attention to Poppy. “Sorry about the drunk and disorderly over here. She’s having issues. You were saying?”
“Uhhh…”
Piper took pity on her and filled everyone in on what was happening. “Poppy bought her house after her divorce, but she’s been dating Felix for a while now, and since she spends most of her time at his place, he thinks it makes more sense for her to move in with him than pay a mortgage for a house she barely spends any time in.”
“That makes sense,” Jules said with a nod.
“Yeah, but it’s not like he’s proposing marriage,” Patti pointed out.
Piper snapped her fingers. “Exactly. What if Poppy sells her house and moves in with him, and then he rolls out of bed one day and decides it just isn’t working out? Then she’s out on her ass without a house to fall back on.”
“While that’s true,” Lynn piped up, “if you love the guy, you have to be willing to take a risk.”
Poppy fiddled with her glass. “I know. It’s just hard to leave things up to chance when you don’t know what lies ahead.”
“Unless it’s a financial strain, why not keep it as a vacation home?” Patti suggested. “You could use it to get away on the weekends. Heck, you could even rent it out to your friends,” she said, spanning her arms open wide. “We could all use a little retreat from the city now and then.”
