Or maybe it’s just a risk of a different kind. A gamble on myself. On my career. That’s not a bad reason to take chances, is it?
I flash back on my day with Heath. Are we taking chances? No. Of course not. We decided not to take the risk of dating.
That would be foolish.
I’m one week into my new job here, the thing I moved for, the thing that makes me wildly happy.
I won’t chance it for an unproven romance.
Besides, one swift look at my dating past tells me this—romances end. Often swiftly.
I distill those thoughts into our post-show dissection. “Fine, maybe I do like these deep-dive dramedies, but the romantic in me still wanted Carly and Dane together.”
Emerson lifts a finger. “And that’s why you’ll tune in next season.”
“True words,” I say.
Easton clears his throat, shoots a purposeful stare my way. “And speaking of going deeper, when are we going to do a deep dive into the photo you sent us this afternoon? The one you said we’d discuss when the show ended? Show’s over now, JoJo. Tick tock.”
A smile tugs at my lips as Saturday night unfurls in London four stories below me, and my night with my friends starts to wind up. It’s only five for them, and they’re all hitting the New York scene soon, but I’ll take this time and cherish it, thank you very much.
And that also means . . . time to dish.
“That’s . . . Heath,” I say of the shot of us from the gardens earlier today—a shot of the risk we’re taking—friendship.
Easton gives a tell me more look to the camera.
TJ wiggles his fingers, beckoning me to serve up the goods.
I grab my bottle of wine from the kitchen counter, pour a splash, and do what I’d have done in New York if we were all at Gin Joint or The Lucky Spot—have a drink, share the deets, tell them my heart.
“So, there’s this guy . . .”
Ten minutes later, the debrief is done. I miss the in-person fist bumps and shoulder pats, but I don’t take for granted what a gift this is.
The chance to talk to them.
To matter.
To be a part of all their lives.
Setting down the half-finished glass, I let out my pent-up breath. “So, thoughts?”
As Emerson paces her apartment, the door creaks open and Nolan photobombs her screen, flashing a big smile. “I’m here! You’re just friends with this dude in the pic?” he asks, cutting to the chase.
“Well, we started as . . .”
“Say it, JoJo. A red-hot one-night stand,” TJ explains salaciously.
Like I needed the reminder of my night with Heath. The memory of the fantastic sex sends a fresh rush of heat down my spine. I try to tamp it down, though. “Yes, fine. But we work together, so we dialed it back to friends. And I’d like to have a friend here in London.”
“That’s good, then. You have a lot in common, so it makes sense,” Emerson says, leaning on that practical streak I know so well.
“But there’s a fine line between friends and lovers,” Nolan adds, his face in the frame beside Em’s, practically smushed against it. “And you already sorta crossed it.”
“But you can go back,” TJ chimes in. “Just because you slept together doesn’t mean you can’t be friends. I have friends I’ve slept with.”
Easton arches a dubious brow. “But none of them were your actual boyfriends. You’re not friends with your exes—only dudes you’ve slept with.”
TJ nods emphatically. “That’s my point. One-time lovers can return to friendship. So, it’s good that JoJo is trying to be friends with him. But once you catch feelings, that’s another story. That’s when you can’t return to friendship.”
Easton gestures as if to acknowledge TJ’s point. “Fine, fine. I’ll give you that.”
Emerson clears her throat. “So, as long as she doesn’t catch feelings, this whole friendship with the smoldering Brit ripped straight from the pages of Jane Austen will work out fine?”
“It’s possible,” TJ says, then holds up a warning finger. “Just don’t bang the hottie again.”
“Words to live by,” Easton quips.
Indeed, I’m doing my best to follow them.
Sleeping with Heath again would be a high-stakes gamble now. After all, he might be the start of my London circle of friends.
I wouldn’t risk my New York crew, so why risk this tender new friendship I’m planting here across the pond?
Granted, with my New York group, I never tried to build on the foundation of a one-night stand. Still, Heath and I put the genie back in the bottle this week.
He can become part of my new London world, just like these guys are part of my longtime world.
But I doubt my father will become part of my London world.
He’s more of an obligation. That’s family, sometimes.
On Sunday afternoon, I walk to meet him at Fortnum & Mason in St James. Along the way, I have a heart-to-heart with the young, hurt, angry part of me.