But no, I’d been so distracted by my anticipation over said desserts that I let myself be lulled into a false sense of security.
“Look at you,” James says, as we sit down at a tiny table by the window. “You’re freaking glowing.”
“It’s a suntan.” I scan the menu, bypassing the dinner section. “Oh, they have steamed chocolate tonight.” Orgasm in the Form of Chocolate should be the dessert’s formal title.
“No…It’s not the suntan.”
James peers at me for too long, and I fight the urge to raise my menu in front of my face. Instead, I return his stare with a bland expression. But it doesn’t work. He suddenly beams.
“You fucked him!”
A table of older businessmen turns our way.
I glance at the men now snickering at us, give them a death glare that has them looking away, and then lean in to hiss at James. “Would you keep it down? I like this restaurant. And you cannot tell I had sex with Finn by looking at me.”
“You just blushed bright red,” James points out.
Fuck.
“All right, Miss Marple, I had sex with Finn. Can we eat now?”
“We don’t have any food to eat yet. And if you’re going to make me a Christie detective, make me Poirot.”
“I knew you had a Poirot thing! With all those hats and bowties.”
James gives me a level look. “Are you sure you aren’t Miss Marple?”
“Truthfully, I’d love to live a Miss Marple life when I’m older. Settle down in a quaint English village, rife with murder and deceit and afternoon teas.”
James rests his chin in his hand. “I’ve missed you, Chessie bear.”
“I’ve missed you too.”
James has been in New York more than he’s been in New Orleans. At this point, I see Finn more than I see James.
“That’s it?” James says now, his feathery red brows lifting in outrage.
“What are you talking about?”
He huffs. “You’re not going to tell me anything about Finn?”
“God. When do I ever give you details?”
I swear the man’s bowtie trembles with ire. He practically leans across the table. “Since you nailed Finn Mannus.”
“At least you whispered this time,” I mutter. “Please tell me this isn’t about Finn being famous.”
“You wound me, Chess.” James sniffs. “This is about you finally getting what I know you’ve wanted since you met him. The fact that I’ve had a tiny crush on him for years is just frosting on the cake. But can you blame me for wanting to know? I mean, come on, have you seen him?”
“Oh, I’ve seen him,” I can’t help but say, fighting to maintain a straight face.
“Bitch,” he says with a smile.
“Do I have to remind you that you’re in a relationship, James?”
His teasing expression fades. “No.”
I glance at him sharply, and James fidgets with his bowtie. “What?” I say, because that fidget never bodes well. “God, did you break up?”
“What? No.” James sounds horrified. He exhales as if pulling himself together. “No, nothing like that… Chess.” He reaches for my hand.
I pull away, my heart suddenly thumping. “Why are you saying my name as if someone died?”
“Chess,” he says again, pained. “I’m moving to New York.”
The words hang over us like a fug, as I stare at my best friend in frozen silence. My face feels too hot, my eyes scratchy. “You’re moving?”
“Yes. I love Jamie. I don’t like being away from her.”
“You’re moving.”
I’m stuck on repeat, but can’t seem to snap out of it.
He takes my hand then, and I feel how clammy his skin is. “I found my person, Chess. After all the searching. After empty nights of wondering if I should swear off women or swear of men, I found someone. I don’t want to wait or take things slow. I want it all now.”
“All?” I rasp. My mouth is dry. I hear him. Of course, I hear him. But my mind won’t move past the fact that he’s leaving.
James gives me a small but hopeful smile. “Marriage, a dog named Sue, maybe even kids.”
James is telling me this. James who has scoffed at convention his whole life. James who once said having kids wasn’t for everyone—wasn’t for people like us, he’d implied. I run a hand through my hair and find my forehead damp.
In silence, James looks back at me, his eyes wide, his skin pale against the red of his hair. He’s leaving me. He won’t be here if things don’t work out with Finn. He won’t be here if things do. I won’t have him to talk to when I work or when I’m worried.
“Chess…”
I blink out of my fog, and realize James is biting his lip. My sweet, funny friend is in love. He deserves this and more. My chair scrapes over the floor as I jerk to my feet. James watches me with clear trepidation that turns to surprise as I lean across the table and cup his cheek in my hands before giving him a big, smacking kiss. “I’m so happy for you,” I tell him.
He laughs a little, letting out a gusty breath. “Jesus, I thought you were going for a Godfather II kiss of death reenactment or something.”
I sit back in my chair. “What, the ‘I know it was you, Fredo. You broke my heart.’”
“‘You broke my heart!’” James intones with feeling.
We laugh like loons, but inside my heart truly is breaking a little. Change is rushing up like a rising tide against me, and I am unmoored.
* * *
Finn
* * *
Since I really don’t want to mope around the apartment, waiting for Chess to come home from her night out with James, I decide I’ll go out to dinner too.
I call Jake, who informs me that Dex, Rolondo, and one of the tight ends, North will be joining us. Oh, and we’ll be eating at Rolondo’s house. I really don’t care what we do as long as I’m out.
Like me, Rolondo lives in a condo. His is in the Central Business District. Located on the fifteenth floor, the place looks like something straight out of Versailles with French style woodwork painted pale gray, mirrored walls, and ornate crystal chandeliers.