“Asking first is cheating. Promise on our friendship.”
It was an evil ploy. Rayna knew I wouldn’t say no, and she knew I wouldn’t go back on something if I promised on our friendship. Neither of us ever would—that was a rule we’d established when we were five.
“Okay … I promise on our friendship,” I agreed, rolling my eyes. “What did I just promise to do?”
“For the rest of the evening, don’t think. Just listen to how you feel and go with it, wherever it leads. And whether or not it makes any sense.”
I nodded. “I’ll try.”
“Not good enough. You promised on our friendship.”
I smiled. “I’ll do it.”
“Perfect.” She picked up the house phone and dialed. “Hey! Our room in an hour for dinner. Ask Sage what kind of pizza he likes. … Okay, thanks.” She hung up and grabbed her purse. “Let’s go.”
“Where are we going?”
“We’re picking up dinner. It’s a crime to eat chain-restaurant pizza when we’re this close to Manhattan. Come on.”
I followed her, but we ended up not driving all the way into the city. The girl behind the front desk happened to be a pizza aficionado, and she knew a great little place I followed her, but we ended up not driving all the way into the city. The girl behind the front desk happened to be a pizza aficionado, and she knew a great little place nearby where she said we’d find pizza as good as anywhere in Manhattan. We got back to the room forty-five minutes later with three large pizzas, sodas, paper plates, cups, napkins, and an aroma that was so good it was driving me insane. I changed into comfy sweats and a T-shirt, threw my hair in a ponytail … then slipped into the bathroom and brushed on a quick layer of mascara.
“YES!” I cried, when the guys knocked on the door. “Finally—I’m starving!”
Rayna stopped me before I let them in.
“Remember,” she whispered, “you swore on our friendship.”
I nodded. Honestly, at that moment I would have sworn on our friendship to anything if it got me to the pizza sooner.
I flung open the door. “Come in and sit and tell me what kind of pizza you want before I eat it all.”
The room was kind of tiny, so we sprawled out on the beds: Rayna and me on one, Sage and Ben on the other.
“Wow, this pizza is so good,” I said, swallowing a gooey bite.
“It is,” Ben agreed. “But I think Sage needs a little more garlic on his. Piri says he loves the stuff.”
“Nice,” I said, nodding.
“So what have you guys been doing since we got to the hotel?” Rayna asked.
“Playing cribbage,” Ben said. “Ask Sage who won.”
“You say that like you never lost a game,” Sage countered.
“Not at all. I’m just asking you to inform the ladies who won the most games.”
“That would be you,” Sage admitted.
“Four out of seven,” Ben crowed, “which is like winning the Stanley Cup of cribbage.”
I had no idea what that meant. Ben had to explain that the Stanley Cup is a best-of-seven match.
“I prefer soccer,” Sage said. “In the World Cup the preliminary games are just lead-ups to the final. And if Ben would be so kind as to let you know who won our final game …”
“Misnomer,” Ben said. “You won the last game we played before dinner, yes, but the final game won’t come until right before we go our separate ways. You let me know when you’re about to head back to South America for good, and I’ll bring out the cards for that match. I’m ready whenever you are.”
He said it lightly, but his eyes were steely, and we all picked up on his real message.
Never one to let a tense moment sit, Rayna jumped in to take the reins of the conversation. She was a maestro. She knew exactly how to conduct each of us—myself included—to bring out the best: the most charming stories that showcased our most winning qualities, and got us all laughing and having fun. If a topic threatened to turn serious, Rayna breezily steered the conversation someplace lighter without it ever feeling anything but perfectly natural. I had sworn on our friendship to spend the evening feeling, not thinking, and if I was really focusing on my feelings, Rayna was winning my heart more than anyone.
Oops, I was already messing up. I was supposed to not focus. It wasn’t how I normally functioned. I’d have to think like Rayna. I’d have to think logically.
Ben started to tell a story. I specifically made an effort not to focus on it. Not that I ignored him—I watched him as he spoke, I smiled and laughed at all the right points. But I let the actual words wash over me without getting too caught up in the meaning, while I munched on my pizza and experienced him.
Ben had the most expressive face I’d ever seen. When he told a story, he dove into it, re-enacting each character with a new set of his jaw and cast of his brow. His eyes shone vibrantly, and every time he laughed, it showed in his whole body. Just watching him made me smile. I felt warm around him, and happy, and comfortable. I felt like flannel pajamas, hot cocoa, a teddy bear, and my favorite comedy on DVD. I felt like home.
I loved Ben, that’s what I felt. It popped into my head, and I didn’t doubt it for a second. I loved Ben.
Well that was settled then, wasn’t it?
Then my eyes darted to Sage, and I noticed he wasn’t focused on Ben’s story either. He was watching me. He was watching me watch Ben, to be precise, leaning back on his elbows and staring so fixedly that I could practically hear him scratching his way into my brain to listen to what I was thinking.
And the minute I felt that, I was desperate to take back what I’d thought, and make sure he hadn’t understood. Especially since I had the strong feeling that if he believed I loved Ben, he’d disappear. Maybe not right away, but as soon as he could. And that would be the end of the world.
“Okay, Sage, your turn,” Rayna said. “What’s the most embarrassing thing you’ve ever done in the middle of a social function?”
Instantly Sage’s intense stare was gone, replaced by a relaxed pose and a charming smile. “Um, I would say doing a spit take in front of Clea’s mom, several senators, and the Israeli foreign minister would probably cover it.”
“You did that?” I asked.
“Oh yes, he did.” Rayna nodded.
“And the minister still offered you his house in Tel Aviv for the honeymoon? That’s shocking.”
“Rayna is particularly charming,” Sage noted.
“Thank you, darling.” She batted her eyes at him like a Disney princess.
“What happened?” Ben asked. “Piri spiked your drink with garlic?”
“You say that like it’s a joke,” Sage said. “I’m pretty sure she did.”
“She must really have it out for you,” Ben said. “Pálinka’s Hungarian holy water. You don’t mess with that.”
“Speaking of holy water, I so did not get that on our trip,” Rayna put in. “Clea and I were touring one of the cathedrals in Italy, and in front of the whole tour I go, ‘That’s so cute! Look, they have birdbaths in the church!’” And just like that she whisked the conversation away from Ben and Sage and made everything light and frothy again. She was amazing. I grabbed another slice of pizza and sat back to enjoy the evening and see what else I’d feel.