“Let’s make this quick, Nora’s in the shower but she might not be for long,” I say to the laptop screen I’m hunched over at the coffee table. Each of the guys’ faces is represented in his own videoconference square. I texted them a few minutes ago and called an emergency meeting.
“All right, then, let’s get to it,” says Jamal, sitting forward eagerly. “Your hair is too long. Your nose is a little crooked and honestly some plastic surgery would go a long way. And when you walk—”
I mute him and then smile at the screen. “Perks of being the host of the meeting. I get to silence you whenever I want. You’re officially in a talking time-out, jackass.”
Jamal makes an inappropriate gesture at the screen.
Nathan sets aside the protein smoothie he was finishing up. “Not to be that guy, but Bree and I are about to go on a run. So let’s get on with it.”
Lawrence and Price both confirm they’re ready. Jamal pouts with his arms folded.
“All right. Here it is. You all know I accidentally married my agent who is also my ex-girlfriend who I am still frustratingly in love with.”
“And posted your tongue down her throat on social media and nearly got her fired. Let’s not forget that part,” Price says with a smirk.
“Careful, I’ll mute you too.”
He raises his hand. “Just laying out all the facts for the people.”
Nora starts humming loudly in the shower and it reminds me to hurry this shit up. “Here’s the problem. I think…no, I know that I want to get back together with her. Not only is she hilarious and smart and gorgeous and so good at organizing, but she’s good for me. She’s not afraid to call me on my bullshit and I feel lighter when I’m with her. I…I can’t let her go again.”
I wait for the surprised gasps but they never happen.
Lawrence laughs. “Yeah, man. We know. We’ve known since we met Nora at your place that you’d want her back.”
Nathan smiles. “We’ve been waiting for you to realize it too.”
Jamal is gesturing wildly to the screen, begging me to unmute him so he can gloat. Not a chance.
“The hell? You guys knew this would happen even after I told you I wanted to move on the other night?”
Price laughs and it’s definitely at my expense. “Hard to miss it when your face looks even more annoyingly moony-eyed while talking about Nora than Nathan does talking about Bree.”
“Hey,” me and Nathan say at the same time.
But Nathan is offended for a different reason. “No one loves their woman more than I love Bree.”
We all give Nathan a look and I crash my finger down on that mute button. “That just earned you a minute of talking time-out too. Jamal, you’re on probation.” I unmute him.
Jamal gasps for air like he’s been choking for twenty years. “Derek, I hate you so much it somehow dips all the way into love, and that’s why I’m going to skip the I-freaking-told-you-so speech and jump right to telling you that Nora seems worlds out of your league and you should absolutely use this time you have with her to win her back. Fight for her. Who agrees with me?”
Lawrence raises his hand. “I agree…but with a caveat. I don’t believe in chasing a woman who doesn’t want to be chased. Has she put out any vibes that she’s into you again? Or does she seem closed off and reluctant?”
“Of course she’s reluctant,” says Jamal, while gesturing most likely toward my picture on the screen. “Look at his face. Would you want to look at that every day of your—”
I mute him again and unmute Nathan. “We spent a long time just talking last night. And then we shared a bed, and when I woke up this morning, she was sleeping pretty much on top of me.” Everyone makes a similar eyebrows-raised hopeful face. “But that could be because I’m twice her size and the mattress just dipped so much that she rolled onto me.”
Their brows lower back to puzzled.
“You could always just try being honest right away,” says Price.
Nathan hisses in through his teeth. “That’s risky. Not only do they have a whole honeymoon together full of potential awkwardness if she doesn’t return his feelings, but when they get back home, she’s still his agent. I’d rather have at least a little assurance things are tipping in that direction before jumping all in.”
“Okay, so that’s what you’re looking for, then,” adds Lawrence. “Really listen to her. Study her mannerisms. And if you start to suspect she still has feelings, woo her.”
“Woo her? What are you, an eighty-year-old grandma?”
“Woo is a good word. You’re not trying to seduce her. Wooing insinuates you’re trying to get to her heart, not just her body.”
It checks out. Still, this makes me think of the other reason I called them. “Do you guys think I’m being ignorant to consider pursuing her again? Since she was the one who broke up with me and it nearly killed me the first time?”
“Bree cut me out too, right before college,” says Nathan. “And although I don’t know all the particulars between you and Nora, I know that if I had let myself stay hung up on a choice she made when we were young, I would have missed out on a beautiful life with her.”
Lawrence nods. “I agree with Nathan. You’ve got the perfect week to see what’s what. Give it a shot. And although I don’t think you have to go all in with her—I think it’s brave of you to be open to connection again and see what happens.” What the hell kind of self-help books does this guy read?
Nathan sits forward. “You know, I still have my old cheat sheet that helped me win over Bree. I can text it to you.”
I roll my eyes. “I don’t need help in that department, thank you very much. I gave you the ideas for that damn thing.”
“You told me to wink. And it did not work out, might I add.”
“Not my fault you don’t have game.”
Jamal is literally standing and yelling god knows what at the screen. I smile pleasantly and flip him a little birdie. Just for fun I use my other hand to give it wings and let it flap all around the screen.
“What are you doing?” says Nora, standing just outside the bathroom door I never heard open wearing a big sun hat and swimsuit cover-up.
All I see is a glimpse of the guys’ wide eyes (and Jamal howling with laughter) before I slam my laptop shut. “Oh, uh—nothing. I was just…doing a hand stretch thing. It’s for football.” I pause and she doesn’t rush to fill the silence. “It’s just…sports people do it. Athletes. It’s an athlete”—I pause painfully again—“hand thing.”
She smiles. “That seems like a very suspicious lie, but I’ll allow it because we’re going to be late for our meeting if we stand here chitchatting about your interpretive hand dancing any longer.”
