Arianne
fter a busy weekend filled with pampering and shopping, I make my way from the kitchen to the
living room with a glass of red wine in hand after polishing off a delicious Italian meal.
My phone rings. I rush to the coffee table, drop the glass, snatch it, and answer the video call as I
plop myself on the couch.
“Phoebe’s smiling face appears on my screen. “Your hair is amazing.” I swirl a strand around my
finger. “It’s not too blonde?” “No. It’s not like it’s platinum blonde or anything that dramatic. It’s a
stunning shade. It brings out your brown eyes.”
“Thank you. I hesitated at first, but I’m thrilled with the result. Gius eppe said dark blonde
highlights complement my complexion much more than the chunky blonde highlights I’ve been
sporting since Silicon Valley.”
“I’m so glad you didn’t cancel. Gius eppe is one of the best stylists in LA. His waiting list is
ridiculous. The man knows his stuff. Without him, I’d still be a mousy brunette instead of this,” she
says, shaking her dark chocolate brown hair with a flattering bang. “It seems you’ve also scored in
the wardrobe d epartment. Andrea worked her magic.”
Phoebe has been extinguishing fires since she landed in Seattle on Friday morning. This is the first
time we’ve had a chance to catch up. I’ve been updating her via a series of text messages, including
photos.
“She’s amazing. I love everything I bought. I even got all new makeup. The spa day yesterday was
heaven. I feel like a new woman. I’m happy I
listened to you and I didn’t cancel.”
“Look at you.” “I know, right?” “You’ll look incredible at your party on Tuesday night.” “Oh, that
again.” I roll my eyes. “Are you saying you don’t want to see me?” “I totally want to see you and
you know it. I also can’t wait to meet Oscar after hearing so much about him. It’s just the whole
idea of having a party in my honor...” I shrug.
“Look at it as a ‘have a great trip’ sendoff party since the next day you’re flying out to Germany.
That way you won’t feel so self-conscious about it.”
She knows me well. “You’re funny.” “Speaking of pending business trips with your super sexy and
naughty boss-slash-client, did you hook up over the weekend?”
“No. He spent the weekend with a blonde and her best friend—” “What?” Phoebe’s eyes shine
bright with fury. “Motherfucker.” “Calm down, guard dog. He was spending the weekend with his
niece and her dog.”
“Oh. Okay, that’s the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard.” “Ditto that,” I say. “What a dichotomy—the
caring uncle and the unwavering lover.” He’s not my lover, but I don’t correct her. I also don’t
admit my ovaries nearly burst when Beckett told me of his plans.
“I was worried Beckett might be cut from the same cloth as Chance,” Phoebe says.
“Mom has the same concerns.” “What do you mean?” I tell her about my conversation with Mom
when she called to tell me Mariah was in Philly flaunting her big ass engagement ring.
“The two men couldn’t be further apart,” I say. “Beckett didn’t have to tell me he was spending the
weekend on uncle duty. We’re not in a relationship. He doesn’t owe me anything. Yet, he insisted
on explaining the reason he wouldn’t see me until tomorrow. I was touched beyond belief by his
attentiveness.”
“He showed you the respect you deserve. That says a lot about him.”
“It does,” I say with a small smile. I’m fully aware of the blush cre eping up my cheeks, but there
isn’t much I can do about it.
“Arianne likes Beckett. Arianne likes Beckett.” Phoebe singsongs like a five-year-old.
I shake my head. “Well?” “Well, what?” “Do you like Beckett?” What’s there not to like about the
delicious hunk? But no way am I losing my head over another man. “I’m just getting to know him.”
“That doesn’t answer my question,” Phoebe says. I ponder for a beat. “I don’t want to create a silly
fairytale in my head just to end up being crushed and devastated when my make-believe castle
comes crumbling down.”
“You like him.” It’s not a question. I snort. “Me and pretty much every woman who’s ever been in
contact with the charismatic CEO.”
“Okay,” she says. “I get it. You’re not going to answer my question. I won’t push. You’ve come a
long way. I’m proud of you.”
“I’m glad Chance Taboras is no longer the only man on planet Earth to have seen me naked.”
Phoebe laughs. “And Chance Taboras’s cock isn’t the only one I’ve seen in real life,” I say. “And
contrary to his delusional mind, he isn’t the size of an English cucumber—a baby cucumber,
maybe, but not a full-grown one. I can attest to that firsthand.”
Phoebe laughs harder. I’m on a roll. “Chance Taboras was dead wrong when he proclaimed genital
fluids don’t belong in one’s mouth. They do. They really do.”
Tears stream down Phoebe’s face. “And Chance Taboras—who doesn’t have a vagina—is a moron
for believing eating pussy is overrated and totally unnecessary.”
“Yeah, idiot Chance needed to shut his mouth about that one,” Phoebe says. “I doubt Slut Mariah is
getting her pussy serviced the right way, even if he supposedly changed his views on the matter.”
An evil grin stretches my lips. “I doubt Slut Mariah knows the indescribable pleasures of having her
pussy devoured by an impossibly gorgeous man, on his knees looking up at her with piercing blues
eyes as he tongue-fucks her until she’s hit with the most earth-shattering orgasms of her life in the
middle of the afternoon while she’s still at the office and she could easily get caught.” I take a
breath. There. I said it.
“No. You. Didn’t.” Phoebe’s shocked expression is priceless. “You told me to put myself out there.
I did. In so many filthy ways.”