City Love(54)

“That is so hot I can’t even,” Darcy says.

“He’s perfect for me. We’re totally falling in love. Is it weird that everything’s happening so fast?”

“All that matters is that you’re happy,” Darcy says. “You love being with him. You love how you feel when you’re with him. Go with it.”

“You know I hung that sign over my bed for a reason. Austin is exactly who I was hoping to find. I always knew movie love was real. Now I finally get to live the dream.”

“That is the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard,” Rosanna proclaims.

“Really? Because Cafe Lalo and Central Park movie night sounds pretty romantic.”

Rosanna blushes. “It really was.” She gathers her long, wavy hair into a low pony. Then she twists it into the black elastic that’s always on her wrist.

“What was your favorite part?” Darcy asks.

“Probably when we were sitting together on the blanket. He told me I could lean on him . . . and it felt amazing to just lean against him. He put his arm around me and rubbed my back. He made me feel safe. Which was a big deal for me. I’ve never felt safe with a man before.”

“Why not?” Darcy asks.

Rosanna is immediately snapped out of her warm fuzzy reverie. “No reason,” she says. Her tone is brittle. Whatever part of her was opening up with the memories of her romantic night has shut down. “Anyway. Enough about me. Are you going to tell us about your latest boy adventure or what?”

All Darcy said when we were walking over was that she hooked up with some guy she met at the Strand. We could tell by the way she announced her accomplishment that she was proud. Darcy thinks hooking up with random boys is hot, which I can understand in a flingy kind of way. But it’s just not me. I’m not wired that way.

“There’s not much to tell,” Darcy says. “Unless I tell it like the kind of cheesy romance novel housewives hide under their mattress. Our eyes locked over the towering book carts near self-improvement. He mentally undressed me from head to toe—”

“I hate that expression, ‘head to toe,’” Rosanna interjects.

“—drinking me in like he was desperate to quench his thirst.”

“Quench?” I say. “Really?”

“Oh, yes. And the sweat . . . ran down his chest as he heaved himself over the stacks, books splaying every which way, his lust an uncontainable force to be reckoned with.”

“Gag,” Rosanna says. “I am never reading your book. No offense.”

“None taken. I know I can bring the cheese when I want to.”

“Way to deflect the question,” I say.

“What question?”

“Hello! We’re dying to know what you did tonight.”

“Nothing worth mentioning. I’d rather focus on the Now. The Power of Now says that all we ever have is Now. Now is the most important part of our life. Essentially the Now is our entire existence. Think about it. Besides, what’s funner than late-night pancakes and boy talk with my girls?”

Darcy is working hard to avoid talking about her hot fling. Of course Rosanna and I want to know what happened. But I respect Darcy’s need for privacy. I know exactly how she feels. There are things I don’t want to talk about, either.

“Okay,” Darcy says. “We did the love thing. Now let’s talk sex.”


I glance at Rosanna. We don’t need to have this discussion for me to know that I’m not the only virgin at the table.

“When is the right time to have sex?” Darcy asks. “I’ll go first. For me, it’s simple. When I want to and it feels right.”

Rosanna yanks the elastic out of her hair. Then she twists it back up, staring at the table.

“When I really know the person and I’m in love with him,” I say. “I have to be in love first. That’s nonnegotiable.”

“You don’t ever see yourself going too far in the heat of the moment?” Darcy asks.

“‘Heat of the moment?’” I inquire. “Are you writing more of your book?”

“It may not be a best seller, but the ladies love it.” Darcy takes a sip of her coffee. She looks at Rosanna expectantly over the rim of her mug.

Snap-snap-snap go Rosanna’s fingers. She is dying for a subject change.

I swoop in to save her. “Three brunettes equals girl power. We decide where, when, and with whom. That’s all we need to know.”

I look around to see who else goes to Coffee Shop this late. Not many people are here. Partly because it’s the middle of the night. Partly because the city is dead in the summer. People start going out to their summer shares in the Hamptons or wherever right after Memorial Day. Having Manhattan all to myself in August is an annual perk I enjoy. The serenity almost offsets the gross heat/humidity combo. There’s a couple in the window booth who are obviously crazy in love with each other. You can tell by the way they’re looking at each other like the rest of us aren’t even here.

“See that couple in the window booth?” I ask Darcy and Rosanna.

They turn to look.

“Oh,” Rosanna sighs. “The way he’s looking at her.”

“The way he’s touching her arm,” Darcy says.