I attempt to shake my head while also going for my margarita straw, which doesn’t work out how I want it to. “No kissing. Some subtle touches, and some even subtler eye fucking, but that’s all she wrote.”

“What is he waiting for?” Gemma raises her hand like one of her students, ready to order another drink.

Instead Harley hands off her as-yet-untouched second round. “More importantly, how are you feeling about everything?”

Bleh. It’d probably do me some good to talk about all this. In fact, I know it’d do me some good to talk about all this. But I also have no idea how to approach this conversation, even with my best friends. Alas, not knowing exactly what to say sure as hell never stopped me before. “I think I really like him. Like, not just in an I-want-to-bang-you way, but in an oh-shit-there’s-actually-some-feelings-in-there kind of way. He makes my stomach flip. And he gives me these little chest aches. And every time he does something nice for me—which is, like, all the fucking time—I just want to squeeze him.” I stab the ice in my drink with my straw. “Guys, I haven’t flirted with another guy since I moved into the brownstone. I didn’t even realize that until recently. And like, I don’t feel like I’m missing out on anything, you know?”

“You’re not, trust me on that.” Gemma holds out her fist and I give her a half-hearted bump. “So what’s his problem?”

I purse my lips, not wanting to divulge too many of Jack’s secrets without his permission. “I think he still hasn’t fully dealt with his parents’ deaths. And he’s been alone for a long time. Not just single alone. Like actually alone. I can’t imagine going through what he did without you guys there to support me.”

“You’ll never have to find out.” Harley pats my hand. “I imagine a lot of his hesitation comes from not wanting to end up alone again. You blew into his life, brought all of us with you, and he wants to make sure he’s ready so he doesn’t mess it up. I know it’s frustrating for you, but I think it’s actually a really smart way to go about things.”

“Yeah, I get it.” I break a chip into tiny pieces. “Not going to lie though, I definitely feel like the longer we wait, the more likely it is he’ll never want to take things to the next level.”

“Why would you say that?” Gemma has slowed down on her alcohol consumption and is now shoveling chips in her mouth, probably with the hope of soaking up some of the booze.

“I mean, you can only live with me for so long before growing to hate me.”