I Love My Secret (Nicole's Erotic Romance) Read Online Free PDF Page A

chair, triumphant, as the server refills her
coffee on the way to another table that’s been waiting longer. Jess has got her
red hair tied up in a messy bun. We’re all wearing comfy Sunday clothes;
bundled up, because it’s cold out. Amber and I are sitting opposite her, as she
prefers to face us when she talks, not turn to the side. I don’t care. I’m just
glad we’re in chairs and inside. We’ve finally gotten seated at the very packed
Café Cluny in the West Village. I’m going to get the poached egg and short rib
hash, and my mouth waters just thinking about it. I’m starving. The girls are
still undecided, but it doesn’t matter because the server is slammed and won’t
be back to take our order for who knows how long.
    Brunch is a must-do in Manhattan. Lines form
around the block for some of the best places, and it’s worth the wait. Partly
because of the delicious food, mostly because of the company. It’s a great way
to spend time with your friends, that doesn’t include booze. (Unless you get
the mimosa, which – I won’t lie – sometimes we get.)
    This is the time when we dish about how our
Saturday night went….
    “My sex life is dry as a bone,” Amber announces.
      …Or
how our Saturday night didn’t go.
    Both Jess and I look at her, all sympathy and
silence. Then Jess wrinkles her nose and asks, “What about that guy, Diego?”
    She takes a sip of her coffee and shrugs.
“Emphasis on ‘go’. Diego a go go.”
    I smile and touch her back, then sit forward and
breathe on my own mug, to get the yummy liquid to cool the fuck down. I don’t
know how these girls are already drinking theirs. I must have a sensitive
tongue. Oh, well I guess lattes aren’t as hot as black coffee with cinnamon in
it.
    Amber says, “You know what? I don’t think I’m
ready to meet anyone serious yet. I mean, if he walked right up to me and said,
‘Hi, I’m your future husband. Can I talk to you a second?’ I’d probably say
‘hell no! Do you know how busy I am? I don’t have time to be cuddling on a
couch and watching The Godfather over
and over.”
    I snort, and lean forward on my elbows. “Why do
all men love The Godfather so much?”
    “It’s a good movie,” Jess admits, and then adds,
“but really… I agree. Why are they so obsessed with it?”
    Amber chimes in, “That and Big Lebowski !” We all nod and agree and Amber mumbles, “All men
adore The Dude. But really, cut your hair and get your head out of your ass.”
    Jess says, “Very few men can rock the long hair.”
    I blow on my coffee, thinking of Michael. “Only
some can, but when they can… it’s so hot.”
    Amber leans back. “True. When Brad Pitt has his
hair long, I want to rip his clothes off.”
    Jess crinkles her nose. “Not me. He looks like a
stoner with it like that. Or a surfer. And surfers aren’t very proactive in
their work lives.”
    I ball-up a napkin and throw it at her face. “How
many surfers do you know, Jess?” I ask, amused.
    Jess un-balls the napkin, lays it on her lap, and
says, “How’re things at the studio?” like she’s reading my mind. I’m speechless
for a second because I think she must be asking   about Michael again... but then I
remember I’m a painter. She’s just asking about my work. Add becoming paranoid to my long list of
flaws.
    Amber looks over and takes another sip of her
latte, waiting.
      “Great. Really great. I’ve being working
a lot. Every morning this week, actually.” I don’t add, because Michael is there at night.
    Amber yells out, so excited. “Jess! Let’s go there
after this today and check out her stuff!”
    Jess literally jumps in her seat, and my stomach?
It does a cartwheel into nausea-land. I’m scared to have them come over. I
don’t want them to see what I’ve been working on… not yet. What if they hate my
style? What if I catch disappointment on their faces?
    “Oh my God! I love that idea. Love it. Yes. As
soon as we’re done.”