I shrug at Spencer. “We’ll never learn.”
“Thanks, Coco, for always horrifying us with sex talk,” my cousin says.
She pats his cheek. “I believe you meant to say thank you, Coco, for giving us a sex-positive role model.”
“Yes, that,” I say.
She hooks one elbow with him and one with me as we walk. “A planning breakfast for my birthday. Who’d have thought it?”
“Um, you. You demanded it,” he points out.
“Because birthdays are fun to plan. And with the big five-o coming up,” she says, deadpan, “I’m dying to know what you two have planned for me.”
As we walk along the park, Spencer pitches her an idea I already nixed. “We were thinking maybe we could send you on a cruise,” Spencer offers.
“A cruise?” she asks, as if he’s speaking backward.
“Yes, that thing where boats go around the water?” he supplies.
She bops him on the head. “Darling, sometimes I think you forget who you’re talking to.” She tosses a look my way. “Please tell me this wasn’t your idea, Easton.”
“I told you she wouldn’t go for a cruise,” I chide Spencer.
“Cruises are for people who are willing to gamble on being stuck with other people. I am not one of those people who relishes being stuck,” she says, explaining her reluctance to Spencer.
“I told you so,” I add.
Spencer holds up his hands in surrender. “Fine, fine. How about a spa weekend?”
She sighs dramatically. “I have a driver, a wealth advisor, and my own brownstone. I’m not an exhausted, overworked, working mother of three young kids who needs to get away from it all. Next,” she says.
“I told him that was a bad idea too,” I say, in a stage whisper.
When we reach her favorite breakfast café, her eyes light up. “I have a brilliant idea. How about you two send me to Vegas for the weekend? I can take advantage of all the perks the city has to offer.”
I gird myself as we go inside and discuss perks.
It’s truly never a dull moment with Coco.
Plus, when we’re done, a full hour has flown by—which brings me sixty minutes closer to the woman I haven’t been able to get out of my head.
16
Monk Vows
Three and a half hours later, I take my monk vows as I head to the Village and turn onto the block of The Dating Pool.
I will not think of sex.
Well, at least not until after the interview.
I will not. I will not. I will not.
I repeat that adage as I bound up the steps in The Dating Pool’s building.
I’m a civilized man. I’m more than capable of contemplating many of life’s other great topics for a full hour—is there an afterlife, is revenge truly sweet, and, well, women.
And that lasted less than one minute.
Okay, maybe I’m not that civilized.
But I need to be.
So, when Bellamy opens the door to her podcast studio, I’ve got two things to say to my brain.
Dirty goals, stand down.
Business goals, you’re up.
And that means it’s time to get to know her a little better. It’s always good to understand who you’re dealing with.
Even when the brunette flashes her trademark smile my way—a smile that I swear holds a touch of naughty—I force my mind to stick to business, peering around the space. “So, this is where you work that Most Devoted Guide to Romance magic?”
“Abracadabra.” With a wave of an imaginary magic wand, she gestures to the mics and the mixer, then pats a chair.
I sink down in a comfortable blue one in front of a sea of gadgets and gizmos that don’t make me think of sex. That’s progress. Gold star for me. “Question for you before we start,” I say.
“So that’s how we’re doing this?” She takes a seat, crosses her legs. “You’re asking the questions?”
“Seems I am. You good with that?”
“Fire away,” she says.
I point to the studio setup. “Was this the end game for you?”
“The podcast?”
“Yes.”
“I didn’t dream of being a podcaster as a little girl, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“What did you dream of?” I ask, more interested in the woman herself than the podcaster.
“Ponies.”
The image of a young Bellamy brushing a horse is impossibly endearing. “You’re one of those girls who was into horses,” I say, a little wonder in my tone, since I didn’t quite expect that from her.
She raises her right hand in an oath. “Guilty as charged. I grew up in Colorado. My mom taught riding lessons. We were horse people, and I was obsessed with my Appaloosa.”
“I need to know his name or her name, and I need to know now,” I say. The name of someone’s pet always tells you something about the person.
She laughs, then answers, “Mrs. Whatsit.”
“Fan of A Wrinkle in Time?”
“My favorite story growing up.”
“It’s a great tale of self-discovery, and Mrs. Whatsit is a terrific guide for Meg.”
“I’m impressed you placed the name,” she says, flashing a different smile of pure delight.
I give an easy shrug. “I’ve read a few books.”
“I’ve noticed. And you know them well.” She draws a deep breath, seems to gird herself to say something hard. “Mrs. Whatsit helped me a lot through my grief.”
I blink. Wasn’t expecting that sort of patent honesty. “The book or the horse?” I ask, easing into the topic.
“Both.”
“What happened?”
“My mom died when I was thirteen. It was . . . devastating.” Her voice is strong, but it’s as if she’s had to practice hard to tell this story without breaking. “Made me even closer to the horses. Maybe that’s a weird thing to say. But she was close to them, and spending time riding made me feel connected to her after she was gone.”
The tale makes me want to comfort her, reach for her hand, maybe. But I don’t; she doesn’t seem the kind of woman to need a hug or a squeeze. “I’m so sorry for your loss. I’m glad you found a way through, though,” I say, relying on words rather than touch. That feels more appropriate for Bellamy and me.
“Thank you. I’m glad I found a way too. For a while, I didn’t think I would.” She brushes a loose strand of hair from her cheek. “I don’t normally offer that up . . . but you asked, and you seemed to want to know, so I tried to be direct and honest.”
“I did ask. And I’m glad I now know,” I tell her. Since she was so forthright, I’m compelled to share too. This is the first time she’s truly let down her guard with me, and it feels wrong to simply move on. “I haven’t lost a family member, but I understand what it’s like to lose someone you love. It’s not easy, and you have to find what helps you navigate a new world.”
“So true. And I’m sorry for what you’ve been through too,” she says with sympathy, and a heaviness as well.