chapter 19

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"It's about damn time," Alice squeals, pulling me into a hug.

Harry's at work, and since it's a rare Friday night where my bombshell isn't positioned behind a bar, I'd figured girl time was necessary. We're at my apartment with a bottle of vodka, and thanks to Alice's mixology skills, two Cosmopolitans. Hers rests on a coaster on the table while mine remains clutched between my fingers, nearly spilling as she squeezes the life from me.

Her excitement over Harry and me finally doing the deed is intoxicating, my cup becoming an afterthought as I get swept up in the rush. Letting loose, indulging in my glee without caution, feels phenomenal. I hadn't realized how much I needed this.

"You're telling me," I reply as she pulls away.

Alice leans forward and reaches for her drink. "So I guess that means he's worked through his issues?"

"The ones regarding me, yes."

"The sex must be incredible. I've seen that boy's arms–" she glances at the ceiling dreamily, "and his lips."

I lean back against the couch and sigh. "Trust me, it so is."

"Well good. After this crap David's put you through, you deserve a little release when you get home."

"It's more than a little," I brag.

"Stop making me jealous."

"You're jealous of my sex life," I muse, twirling a strand of my hair. "I never thought I'd see the day."

"Relish in this moment, babe." She gives me a kissy face. "But also stay sensible. Friends with benefits is tough and undecided hearts make nasty messes." Pointing her index finger at me, she warns, "His head better be in the right place."

"It is."

"You sure?"

I don't know what the hell I'm doing with you.

Harry's words sound in my head, the ones he'd spoken right before he admitted he was terrified of breaking me like everything else in his life. It's all he's known in the past. It's all he believes he is now. Broken. Just a man incapable of reciprocating true feelings for another person.

But that fear over potentially hurting me is the piece I cling to. The one proving he's not just broken, but in the process of healing. If he didn't care for me, he wouldn't fear my fate. He also wouldn't have gripped me with such blinding devotion only hours ago in the warehouse.

He may not know what he's doing, but it's evident his heart's in the right place.

I nod, biting my lower lip through my smile. "I think so."

She reaches for my hand and gives it a squeeze. "Good, because you're glowing tonight and I don't want to see that slip."

I can feel energy buzzing through me and not just because of the alcohol. It's something new. Something unconnected to the familiar rush I gain meeting deadlines or seeing a sparkling countertop. It's something deeper. Something I haven't felt until Harry stepped into my world.

I glance at my best friend, swallowing back the frenzy coming from my tummy. "I'm happy, Ali."

"I know." She looks like she's about to cry from sheer satisfaction before she leans against the couch with me and releases my hand. "Hell, I think I might be, too."

"What?" I gasp. "You've let me drone on about work for an hour when you've had news of your own?"

"I was letting you vent."

"Well, I have. So spill."

Pulling her legs up to cross them Indian style, she says, "I met someone."

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