“I mean, obviously you get…excited…at certain romantic moments,” she soldiered on to his dismay. “And when you slept over on my couch that first time you had some amazing action happening in your briefs…or boxers. Is it weird that I don’t know what you wear?”

“Jesus, Gloria. Please stop,” he pleaded.

“So you get hard,” she reiterated. “But you haven’t…you know…since before?”

“Oh, my God. Are you trying to kill me? No. No, I haven’t.” But he would. He would find a way. Some way to give Gloria what she’d never had. “Can we please talk about something else? Anything. Anything at all?” he begged.

“You know, I could help you test it out,” Gloria suggested. He could hear the smile in her voice and chanced a look at her.

She wasn’t joking. She looked…enthusiastic as she stared at his raging hard-on that was fighting the confines of his pants.

“Gloria, the first orgasm between the two of us sure as hell isn’t going to be mine.”

51

It was Friday night, and Gloria was in her pajamas, loose shorts and a t-shirt, in Harper’s kitchen pawing through take-out menus and debating which face mask she was going to try. It was Sleepover Night. Harper had invited Gloria, Sophie, and her friend from college, Hannah, for a night of full-frontal male nudity movies and pizza.

It was the perfect way to take her mind off of everything else. And quite honestly, Gloria needed the break. On top of orders, deliveries, payroll, and twenty-two centerpieces for a wedding tomorrow, there had been nearly a dozen hang-up calls at the shop.

Either it was a rogue fax machine or someone with a lame sense of humor. But every time she answered to silence on the other end, Gloria’s skin crawled. She couldn’t help but think this had something to do with her.

Hannah, a tall, lovely woman with wide eyes and hair the color of pennies, was recounting an embarrassing college story involving Harper and a bio lab mix-up.

Gloria couldn’t remember the last time she’d done something like this. The last time she’d had friends like this. High school? Pre-Glenn. She’d deprived herself of so many things with that one choice.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket.

Aldo: Have fun tonight, Glo. You deserve it.

Seven words that banked a warm fire in her belly. She bit her lip. Could she believe that this choice was different, better than her last? All signs were pointing to a big, bright neon yes. The only niggling doubt she had was Aldo Moretta’s braking ability. On one hand, she appreciated that he wasn’t pushing for a fast, physical relationship. On the other, she’d gotten to the point where it felt like one more goodnight kiss and she was going to spontaneously combust.