“Whatever you want to call it,” I snap at her. “Take it back.”

“Okay, fine, you aren’t going to fall in love.” She takes it back. “Now what if he calls you to go out again?”

“He isn’t going to call me,” I tell her, and her eyebrows go up. “I won’t answer.” I really mean it; I won’t answer. Or maybe I will answer but just to tell him that it’s a no-go.

“This isn’t like all the other ones,” she says, dusting the crumbs off her shirt.

“You have to promise not to say anything to anyone,” I tell her. “He’s a very private person, and I don’t want people to talk about it.”

“As I said, he isn’t like the others. It’s almost like he’s a silent predator.”

“And what, he’s going to come out of the water and bite me?” I ask her. “He’s a nice man. A great time in bed. And that’s it. It was two consenting adults scratching an itch.”

“Are you trying to convince me or yourself of this?” she asks me, and I just glare at her. I’m about to snap when her phone rings. “Hello, love.” She looks at me and smiles. “I’m at Vivienne’s, why?” I get up, grabbing another croissant, and then go to the bedroom to grab my phone. Seeing I have two missed calls from the man in question, I put the phone back down and then walk out to the living room. “Okay, come get me now,” she says, hanging up the phone. “Matthew finished his meeting early, and he’s going to come get me.”

“Why are your cheeks all flushed?” I ask her, and she looks down. “Was he talking dirty to you to get the motor going?”

“No,” she says, trying to avoid my eyes. “He’s picking me up, and we are going to swing by The Plaza for lunch.”

“You mean, he’s booked a room, and he is going to make you scream his name over and over again?” I clap my hands together and laugh.

“You try having sex with four kids coming in all the time,” she says, getting up. “Now I’m going to let my husband take me to a hotel and have his way with me, and with any luck, his parents will take them for the night, and we can do it six or seven times.”

“Will he need help?” I ask her, and she glares at me. “What? He’s coming up on the ladder in age. How am I supposed to know that he doesn’t need it?”

“Trust me, he doesn’t,” she says. Grabbing her purse, she comes over to me, bending to kiss my cheeks. “Now, with any luck, my vagina will be bruised tomorrow.”