1Jane* * *“Please tell me you’re kidding,” I sigh to Harlow. We’re sitting at her house and gossiping just like we always have. The only difference is that now, my best friend is married to Gray Jamison, CEO and former man about town. Also, her house is no regular house because it’s a mansion. The large kitchen has every convenience: waffle maker, bread maker, pasta maker, and even an espresso machine. The only thing it doesn’t have is a personal chef. I look around with some envy because I’m just glad to have my humble half-size dishwasher.
Harlow shakes her head and her dark wavy curls bounce around her shoulders as she laughs. “It’s true. Gray can’t get enough. But it’s the same for me, so it works,” she winks.
“Oh my god, I hate you,” I tease. “You have an insanely handsome, filthy rich husband and two beautiful kids. But don’t you feel like you can’t breathe sometimes as a wife and mom?”
She laughs sweetly.
“Oh god, no. It’s awesome! If anything, I feel like I have it all. But Jane, is that how you feel? You just gave me the image of us being one of those kinky couples with a sad Fifty Shades box of toys, can you imagine?”
My face burns and I laugh. “I, um no, I meant by the commitment of it all. I mean, we’re only twenty-five, but you have a family already. Isn’t it a lot? Our lives are so different now, Harlow. I’m still struggling to make rent every month, whereas you live in this gorgeous palace.”
She giggles and I laugh too, except that being broke isn’t exactly fun and games. Plus, kids and a husband sound like Heaven, to be honest. It would be so satisfying because I have a motherly side that craves fulfillment. Meanwhile, my friend shakes her head with understanding.
“I do what I want, Jane, and what I want is to play with my kids and enjoy being with Gray. It’s the best life I can possibly imagine,” she says as her dark eyes grow dreamy and content.
“Well, I’m nothing but happy for you.”
She giggles. “No, you’re not.”
“Okay, okay, you got me. I’m not only happy for you because I burn with the jealousy of a thousand suns. But seriously, I mean it, sweetie. And Fannie and Freddie are so lucky to get to grow up in this gigantic house –”
“With a few acres for a backyard—”
“Yes, that, too,” I scowl at her while she keeps giggling at me. “How is your dad doing, by the way?” I ask innocently, hoping she doesn’t notice the abrupt change in subject.
Harlow thinks for a moment.
“Good. Brent’s been busy again. Kombuchaid has been making him keep some long hours for the last month. When he’s not working, he’s with one of his scrawny bimbos, and I can’t stand them. I don’t care who he dates, but we can’t even get him to come over for supper half the time. You’d think his daughter and grandkids would be an attraction!”
The thought of Brent Marshall dating other women makes me flush with jealousy, but I make my expression stay neutral. Then I begin dreaming about Brent. I see him in his sexy suits, his chestnut hair swept off his forehead, and a smile on his lips that makes me …
Harlow snaps her fingers. “Earth to Jane!”
I jolt back to real life, embarrassed that I’ve been thinking about her dad.
“Sorry,” I apologize, cheeks red. “I’ve been keeping late hours at work. It makes me easy to distract.”
Jane looks puzzled.
“The insurance agency makes you stay late? Shouldn’t a receptionist have more time to herself than that?”
I smile and lie. “I’ve been doing some extra tasks around the office. Might get a promotion to office manager if I keep it up.”
“Oh,” she nods dubiously. “Well, that would be great, right?”
I half-smile.
“It would be wonderful.” Of course, I’m not really working late, but I can’t tell Harlow anything about my new hobby. We’re practically sisters, but after her Fifty Shades crack, mentioning the Cube is totally out of the question.
Then Harlow gets a curious look.
“What about your love life, Jane? Anyone I should know about?”
It’s like she reads my mind. Damn it.
“Nope,” I lie through my teeth.
Her brown eyes flicker because she knows me too well.
“Anyone I shouldn’t know about?” she asks archly.
“What does that mean?”
“You have a tone.”
“I have no tone!” I protest.
She laughs. “You’re hiding something.”
I make a face at her.
“Is this how moms learn to trip up their kids? They practice on their friends?”
“I’m not sure because I don’t have any mom friends yet,” she says archly.
“You should work on that, Har.” I pat her hand and sip my coffee. “I understand they are vital to the mom experience.”
She sighs.
“It’d be easier if I had a mom friend who I am already close with,” she hints lightly.