She flushed, lips set. “Well, I was trying to explain to Tess, and she kept defending Brock for not giving you orgasms. I needed a tiebreaker, and Kash always gives the best advice.”

I skidded to a halt, pulling her backward with an oof. “You told him about the orgasms?”

“Well, yeah. Isn’t that what he said?”

“You think Kash talked to me about orgasms in the greenhouse? Jesus, Ivy! He told me he was sorry about Brock!”

“Oh. Well … I mean, I’m not sorry.”

My mouth popped open, brows stitched together. “You bitch.”

“What? I’m not,” she said smartly, folding her arms. “He agreed that zero missed orgasms was the gold standard for men who aren’t assholes.”

I groaned, pressing my hands to my face for one brief moment of privacy. “I cannot believe you.”

“Really?” she challenged.

Another groan. My hands dropped to my sides, and I straightened up, not taking her traitor arm again. She could waddle on her own.

“Oh, come on, Lila.”

I kept walking, knowing she couldn’t keep up.

“Wait up. I’m sorry, okay?”

At that, I stopped, turning in wait for the rest, one brow cocked.

“I’m just … I’m so fucking mad at Brock. It’s no secret I’ve always hated him—”

I snorted a laugh at the understatement.

“But Lila, what he did is unforgivable and on so many levels. I’m just mad. And it made me mad that Tess didn’t automatically agree with me. I didn’t mean to embarrass you. I’m sorry.”

I sighed, softening at her expression, which was mushy and looked like she might cry. “It’s all right. But if you could maybe refrain from discussing my orgasms with Kash Bennet, that would be great.”

She sniffled, smiling. “Deal.”

Linking arms again, we started for the pizza window. I could already smell the garlic, and my tastebuds exploded in anticipation.

“Have you thought about a rebound?” she asked carefully.

“I haven’t even thought about where I’m going to live, never mind dating.”

“Nobody said date,” she defended. “But maybe dick is more important right now than a permanent address.”

“Oh my God.”

“What? You know I’m not wrong. It doesn’t have to be serious or anything, just a romp. A frolic. A cavorting rollick with an uncomplicated penis.”

“Ivy,” I said on a laugh. “Stop it.”

She rolled her eyes. “You’ve always underestimated the power of a good, frisky roll in the hay. I mean, we even have literal hay in storage at the greenhouse.”

I gave her a look.

“I’m just saying,” she insisted innocently, “that you have options.”

The look didn’t quit.

“And that getting some hot beef could solve a lot of your problems.”

“Like what?”