“You do?” Molly felt overwhelmed. She’d never solved a problem by committee before.
“Yes. From now on anytime we have a problem with our relationships, we can call you.” Fliss tapped her mug against Molly’s. “It’s very cool.”
“It feels weird everyone suddenly knowing something I’ve been hiding for years.”
“We’re experts on that.” Gabe winked at Mark. “We can advise. And we can watch your back.”
“Someone needs to, because Daniel’s mostly watching her front,” Fliss said cheerfully and earned herself a warning look from her brother.
They stayed all day, and by the time everyone left the apartment, it was dark.
Between them they’d written and posted the blog, eaten six large pizzas, consumed two bottles of champagne and talked. They talked about the good and the bad, the embarrassing and the scary. They shared secrets and feelings. Twice Harriet had quietly slipped out of the apartment and taken Valentine to the park for a quick run. Fliss had insisted on tagging along as her bodyguard, and had returned the second time with a large box from Magnolia Bakery.
“Everyone knows a sugar rush is the perfect cure for tension,” was all she’d said when Mark had made a comment about the threat to their arteries.
Eventually, in the small hours of the morning, the only person left was Daniel.
Molly tidied the cushions, stacked the empty pizza boxes in the kitchen and cleared what felt like a hundred dirty mugs. She should have felt stressed, but instead she felt warmed, as if she’d been wrapped in layers of soft blankets. That was what friends did. They acted as an insulator. A layer between a person and the cold, hard world.
She realized that Daniel was watching her. He stood, legs braced and arms folded, the stance pulling the fabric of his shirt tight across his muscle-packed shoulders. His jaw was dark with stubble and his eyes were tired. He’d been here all day and still showed no signs of leaving. She sensed there was something he wanted to say to her and was waiting for the right moment.
There were things she needed to say to him, too, but right now she didn’t have the energy for another emotional conversation. “You should go. You’ve already done more than enough and I’m grateful. You don’t need to feel guilty.”
“You think I’m here because I feel guilty?”
What other reason could there be? “You must be exhausted.”
“I’m not leaving. If I’m tired I’ll sleep on your sofa.”
“You hate my sofa.”
“True. There’s always the bed.”
He was talking as if nothing had changed. As if their entire relationship hadn’t been shaken up in the past twenty-four hours. If she let him back into her bed, what would that mean? “I don’t think that’s a great idea. Not that the sex isn’t good—”
She saw the sudden flare of heat in his eyes and knew it was mirrored in hers. She’d been trying not to think about that side of things, but of course now she’d said it aloud she could think of nothing else.
A muscle flickered in his jaw. “Sex isn’t why I’m here either.”
She was missing something.
Obviously she was missing something.
She searched for the answer in his face, but found nothing. Long lashes shielded his gaze. His mouth was a firm, disciplined line, revealing nothing.
“Friendship?” Yes, that had to be it. “You’re here because you want to prove your friendship and today you’ve more than done that. I’m grateful.”
“I don’t want your gratitude. And I’m not here as your friend.”
And yet he’d been by her side all day. Everyone had chipped in, but no one had been in any doubt about who was in charge. Daniel was the one who had stayed cool when four people were talking at once. Daniel had picked the good ideas from the bad.
Today she’d had a firsthand glimpse at the skills and qualities that made him such a fine lawyer.
Maybe he wasn’t here as her friend, but he was here, standing between her and another disaster, and that made her lucky.
“If it’s not friendship, then I don’t know what it is, but I’m grateful for it.”
“I don’t want your gratitude.” He hesitated and then shook his head. “You’ve had a hell of a day. We should talk about this another time.”