Make Me Sin

54

Grace eyes me. “That doesn’t sound good.”

I take a long pull of my drink, buying time. I look at my best friends, the two people who know me better than anyone else, who’ve spent countless hours in my company, with whom I’ve shared years of laughter and tears, been with during bitter breakups and many life milestones, and trust completely. In fact, I trust these women with my life.

And, if I’m guessing right, they don’t know me as well as A.J. does after four nights.

That idea is seriously screwing with my head.

“Here’s a little quiz for you, ladies: What would you guess, if asked, that I’m most proud of in my life?”

Kat blinks, frowning. “How does this relate to the topic at hand?”

“I have a point, trust me.”

Always up for a challenge, Grace jumps right in. “Your business.”

I shake my head. She immediately guesses again. “Your hair.”

“Be serious.”

“I am serious. Your hair is glorious. You could earn millions doing shampoo commercials. It’s the only thing I’m jealous of you about. Well, I’m also pretty green over that Patek Phillipe your father bought you for your twenty-first birthday. It might be even better than your hair.”

I sigh. “I knew I could count on you for some deep insights. Kat?”

Kat hesitates for a moment, sucking thoughtfully on the little red straw in her margarita. “Maybe your degree. I know how hard you worked to get it. I know how proud you were when you graduated. It was a huge accomplishment.”

Slowly, I shake my head. “No. What I’m most proud of is my relationship with you two nitwits. You’re both strong, intelligent, amazing women, who I admire tremendously, and you’re the best, most solid thing in my life. I’d rather not know my own parents than not know you.”

Stunned silence.

“Here’s another one: Of what am I most ashamed?”

Grace quickly recovers. “That’s easy. Cory McLean.”

Cory McLean, who I’d conveniently suppressed the memory of until this moment, was a boyfriend I had in my freshman year of college. There was a drunken incident involving the hood of a convertible Porsche, an awkward striptease, and a cell phone camera. My father had to threaten legal action to have the video taken down from the web. It wasn’t until my senior year guys stopped calling me “Coochie Carmichael.”

“No. The thing I’m most ashamed of is the time I saw Jeff Douglas from my high school’s football team kicking a homeless guy in the stomach behind the El Pollo Loco on Washington Boulevard, and I didn’t stop him. Or tell anyone about it. The poor man was just lying there on the ground, getting beaten, and I didn’t do anything. Because it was Jeff Douglas, Homecoming King, Jock of the Century, I just walked away. And I’ll never forgive myself for that.”

I look down at my soup. The tiny floating vegan meatballs seem as appetizing as clods of dirt.

“Sweetheart,” says Grace, moved. “You never told us about that.”

I look at her, then Kat. “I haven’t thought about it in years. That’s the way I’ve always lived my life: one thing after the next, set goals, achieve them, move on, don’t think about anything sad or unpleasant. Shrug it off. Live in the here and now. But for the past four nights, A.J. has asked me questions I’ve never even asked myself, and I feel like . . . I’m getting to know myself better. Because of him.”

Kat sits back in her chair, staring at me with understanding dawning over her face. Grace takes one look at her expression and her head snaps around like that girl from The Exorcist just before she spews green puke all over the room.

She gasps. “No. Abso-lutely-f*****g-no!”

Kat nods. “Yep.”

Grace covers her mouth with her hands. Her gray eyes look ready to pop from her head. From beneath her palms comes a muffled, horrified “You have feelings for him.”

I can’t deny it, so I take another swig of my drink.

“Jesus H. Christ on a crutch!” Grace shouts, jerking upright in her chair. The mother with her three young kids in the opposite booth shoots us a death glare, which everyone at our table ignores. “Chloe, for God’s sake, I said have a fling, not fall in love! A.J. Edwards is NOT the guy you fall in love with! What the hell are you thinking?”

I look at her. My gaze is steady, as is my voice when I answer. “I’m thinking I underestimated him, and so has everyone else. I’m thinking he’s pretty damn incredible. I’m thinking of putting my heart in his hands, and giving him a lot of rope to run with it, even though it scares me to death, because I’m thinking he’ll be worth it. What I’m not thinking about is what’s going to happen next.” My voice drops. “Because what I’ve gotten from him the last few nights is enough to last me for the next fifty years.”

Grace’s mouth hangs open in horror like the guy in that Edvard Munch painting.

Kat knocks back the rest of her drink. “What about Eric?”

“I care about Eric. But I never felt this way when I was with him. I’ve realized he’s not the one.”

Grace says, “Please don’t tell me you think A.J. is the one.”

I seriously consider that before I answer. “I don’t know yet what A.J. is. What I do know is that when I’m with him, I feel understood. And safe. And that’s enough.”

Kat says, “Last week you said he’d told you he’d never sleep with you. What changed?”