Read Online Just Friends by Robyn Sisman - Free Book Online

out by Freya looking after Cat, but both knew that the reverse was now true. It was Cat who cooked Freya meals when she was down, listened to her moans about Lola, bought her a potted plant every time she moved apartments (it always died), and picked up the pieces when some man let her down. Freya had many close acquaintances in this town—friends in the art world, a few of the old Brooklyn gang, people who invited her to parties and dinners and did the kissy-kissy bit when they met—but Cat was a real friend. Freya trusted her absolutely.
    The food came with indecent speed, confounding any pretense that it had been freshly made. Picturing an array of witches’ cauldrons in a health inspector’s nightmare kitchen, Freya took a tentative bite.
    “Maybe it was a mistake to walk out on Michael.” Cat was thinking aloud. “I mean, what if he was testing you, to see if you’d come up with a more positive response? If you’d stayed at the restaurant and talked through the situation, he might have changed his mind.” She shot Freya a speculative look. “Even now, he could be reconsidering.”
    “What?” Freya choked on a noodle.
    “Just think. It could still all be yours: house, children, Connecticut.”
    “But—”
    “Station wagon. PTA. Country club.”
    “Don’t!”
    “A nice big Lassie dog to play with the kids.”
    “Stop trying to torture me.”
    “Aha! I thought so. Admit it: you liked the idea of getting married, like those sad women who fantasize over Bride’s magazine.”
    Freya glowered at her health slop. She didn’t want to admit anything of the kind. Michael had rejected her. It hurt .
    “I’d like to have seen you in pink, though.” Cat gave her rippling chuckle. “Pink!”
    “Oh, shut up.”
    “I’m sorry, sweetie.” Cat reached out impulsively for her hand. “I’m sorry it didn’t work out with Michael. But you could be awfully disparaging about Michael. You never even let me meet him.”
    “I know.” Freya was embarrassed. For some reason she was always secretive about her emotional life. Or maybe she felt Cat knew her too well and would judge her too severely on her choice? Anyway, Cat would have scared the pants off Michael. She shrugged. “You’d hate Michael. He’s so straight.”
    “But you wanted to marry him?”
    Freya squirmed under Cat’s challenging gaze. The truth was that she probably did want to marry someone, sometime. The fact that she might in the end have rejected Michael was beside the point; he hadn’t even given her the option. “Well, I thought I did,” she mumbled, absently twiddling the bottle of chili sauce. “Mind you, he was never exactly King Kong in the bedroom.”
    “Really?” Cat was agog. “You mean . . . technical problems?”
    “No, the equipment worked. Let’s just say that I think he must have read about the importance of foreplay in some magazine.”
    “But foreplay’s my second favorite part!”
    “Depends how it’s done.” Freya pulled her chair close and leaned across the table. “Say you decide to have a really nice dinner, at the dining table, at home—but naked. And the rule is, you’re not allowed to touch until dessert. Now that’s fun.”
    “I’ll say.”
    “But with Michael it was a bit like going to the dentist. You know, first you make an appointment, then you sit in the waiting room reading a magazine, then the hygienist cleans your teeth and tells you all about her vacation in Florida, and then you rinse and spit, and spit and rinse, until you think, ‘For chrissakes, get out the bloody drill!’ ”
    Cat yelped with laughter, making heads turn. “That’s so cruel.”
    “What are these crunchy bits, by the way?” Freya poked moodily at her food. “Toad’s testicles?”
    “Probably ginkgo nuts, or lotus seeds. Every dish has a perfect balance of yin and yang. I haven’t had a single cold since I started coming here.”
    “Maybe that’s what’s wrong with Michael—too much yin, or too little.