The Do Over (3 page)

"What are you talking about? What's the big deal? And why are you here early?" I questioned. Honestly, I was more annoyed than curious. I was getting to a really good part in my book, and I resented their interruption. Flipping my sunglasses back, I gave them the evil eye. I hoped that the action alone would convey my irritation, so they'd back off.

"You know we love you, Dani, but this has gotten out of hand," Candace continued.

She was the leader of our motley crew. Being tall, blonde, and beautiful, Candace commanded attention when she entered a room, or in this case, during our table-side spectacle.

Candace was a natural born leader. Every time she'd open her mouth, we fell into place. It wouldn't be forced, but she was what Cesar Millan would call our
pack leader
. There had been times when I'd expected her to clip us on the back of our necks to shush us, but she'd never resorted to any of that. Acting as our moral conscience, she was the dictator of all things socially acceptable and correct. If it weren't for the fact that she was so sincere and my best friend in the world, I probably would've hated her guts, especially at this moment.

I straightened up, my feet no longer propped up on the chair in front of me. "And what exactly has gotten out of hand?" I asked, raising an eyebrow. I hoped this was going to be more interesting than the story I was currently reading. I knew I was being defensive, but I honestly didn't know what was out of hand.

"You and that Kindle. It's like you're having a love affair with your damn books," Candace said in a controlled voice.

It would be impossible for Candace to behave in a way that would be anything but appropriate. Standing in front of me was the picture of perfection. Looking like she'd just stepped out of the salon, she was perfectly manicured. Her turquoise frill, silk wrap blouse perfectly coordinated with her white silk capris that were accented by turquoise-and-orange patterns. Her coral necklace, chunky bracelet, and perfectly applied makeup completed her ensemble. She looked like this all the time. It was effortless for her.

I wasn't against the manicured look. I certainly wasn't a slob. I just didn't look like I had a team of stylists to tend to me after I got out of bed. I was wearing a pair of shorts and a white T-shirt hanging off my shoulder with a black tank underneath. My shoes of choice were a pair of Toms. My long brown hair was pulled into a bun on top of my head. I was practical. Yes, this was the look that was effortless for me.

As Candace stood there in her perfection, she pointed a finger at my Kindle and me as though she had just walked in on us having sex. I glanced down, trying to find the appropriate response to that accusation. Truthfully, I was having not one but several—certainly to the count of two or three a week—love affairs with my books. My Kindle, sadly, was the target of Candace's ire. Some of my book boyfriends stirred things up inside me. They brought emotions to the surface and spiced up my evenings. With that internal admission and visualization, I put my Kindle over my mouth to hide a little snicker. They just didn't get it. They weren't readers, but I didn't judge them for their lack of reading.

"Okay," I said. "Seriously, what's the big deal? I read books. They help me, um…relax. You know how crazy my boss is. She's having the midlife crisis that started before midlife and has gone well beyond midlife."
Reading is a form of acceptable decompression.
"My books offer me a distraction, and no one is left hurt or broken." The last part was only a partial truth. I wasn't about to confess exactly how devastated I had been when I'd finished
The Opportunist
by Tarryn Fisher or
Crow's Row
by Julie Hockley. I'd almost taken a personal day to recover from those books. That was my little secret.

"You need to stop hiding behind your books and start living your life," Candace reasoned. "You don't know how it feels every time we talk to you. You barely pay attention to us. You blow us off to
read.
" Candace sounded like a jilted lover, a neglected wife, or worse, a jealous partner. "You carry that damned Kindle everywhere you go. You can leave it at home, you know?" Candace was on a roll. Her body language and mannerisms looked as though she were pleading a case before a judge as she spoke with conviction and determination. "And it's not like you just have one Kindle. You have three Kindles. Why on earth does one person need three Kindles? You're obsessed."

This conversation would be comical if I wasn't getting so upset. Candace stood before me as Macy sat next to me with her hands on my shoulders, offering me comfort. I glared at Macy to back off, and she did quickly.

"Well, first of all, reading is a very healthy hobby. It's great for the brain. I enjoy it, and I'm not hurting anyone. If I want to have three Kindles, then so be it. I have multiple Kindles because they each serve their own purpose. Frankly, I don't see the need to justify my Kindle purchases when I don't question how much money and time you spend on your beautification process," I snapped, glaring at her.

This was getting personal.
Why is she being such a bitch? Who cares if I spend my time reading? So what? She doesn't have to be so mean.

"That is it! Hand it over," Candace demanded.

As she extended her arm to grab my Kindle, I felt a surge of possessiveness. I pulled my Kindle back, holding it against my chest.
What the hell?
I refused to allow anyone, let alone her, get their grubby hands on my Kindle. This was war.

"Are you freaking crazy? What's wrong with you? So what if I like to read? Leave me the hell alone already," I said, my voice rising. I'd never liked being backed into a corner. My response in those situations had been to come out swinging. Although I knew it wasn't the healthiest way to deal with confrontation, it was my instinct.

I didn't understand what their problem was. I was starting to get ticked off. I could feel the adrenaline pumping through my veins while tears pricked my eyes from raw emotion. Their attack on me was hitting nerve. I didn't find anything wrong with what I was doing. I had a very happy and fulfilling life with a wonderful family, terrific friends, and despite my unstable boss, a fantastic job. So, I liked reading.
What's the big deal?

Candace retreated, sitting back in her chair.

"Dani, come on." Macy sat back in her chair, shaking her head. "Give it a rest already. Look at you. You're about to have a full-fledged panic attack over that tablet. It's time you came face to face with why you're hiding behind it."

Macy and I were both second-generation Cuban Americans. We were born and bred in Miami, Florida. We even looked just a little alike. We were close in height, although Macy claimed to be taller. Okay, fine, she was a smidge taller than my five-foot-four height. I was lean but nicely filled out where it mattered, while Macy had a curvier hourglass figure.

Macy had thick, long dark brown hair that never frizzed, even in the worst humidity. She didn't wear her hair up unless she was working. Then, she would pull it back into a nice ponytail. My hair was slightly lighter with a few natural, and at times unnatural, highlights. I had gotten in the habit of always having it up. It was just easier.

Our families had become close over the last few years. Often times, we'd spend holidays together as well as the occasional family vacation. That was how I'd learned the story behind Macy's name. Every summer, her grandmother and mother would go into New York City to window shop—
that's right
—at Macy's. The name suited her perfectly, considering she could shop like no other. There was no special story behind my name. My mom liked the name Daniela, but sometimes, she would affectionately refer to me as Dani, like everyone else did. I only used Daniela professionally, and…well, Rick had always called me Daniela or
Cariño
, meaning his sweetheart. Honestly, I preferred not to think about him or how he'd referred to me ever again.

Macy and I had stayed home to go to college. Solidifying our bond over anatomy and physiology, we had both pursued careers in nursing. We understood the culture, the language, and the expectations from our families. She'd also held my hand while I'd nursed several broken hearts, and when she was recklessly pursing some jerk, I'd covered for her with her family on more than one occasion.

Macy shifted in her chair, tilting her head to the side, as she resumed her explanation of what she thought my problem was. "Rick. We all know he's a dick. What he did to you and how he did it to you was just so effing wrong. If I ever see that asshole again, I'll beat the living shit out of him. But that was…what? A lifetime ago?" She paused for a moment.

Reaching over, she placed her hand on my arm as she fixed her eyes on mine. "It's time to move on. You don't need a book boyfriend. You need a
real
boyfriend. You need some real
sex
. I don't mean to be harsh or anything, but Professor whatever-his-name-is that you picture as Henry Cavill is not
real
."

She took the Kindle out of my hands and then laid it safely in front of me. Placing her hands in mine, she said, "I love you, Dani. I love our friendship. Be mad at me if you want, but you have to stop living in a fantasy. We're not going to sit back and watch you do this anymore just so we don't hurt your feelings. Sorry, girl. We're taking action."

In shock, I really didn't know how to process anything they were saying, but Macy did have a way of driving her point home. I couldn't believe she'd brought up Rick, but throwing the enigmatic professor—my favorite book boyfriend of all time—in my face was unnecessary and just cruel.
He has ruined all men for me.
I knew it seemed a bit crazy, but it was also safe because I'd vowed to never get hurt again.

With a cleansing deep breath, I picked up my Kindle and tucked it away safely in my purse. Looking up, I slowly said, "First of all, I don't want to talk about Rick, so let's not mention him again, thank you very much."

They nodded in agreement.

"My reading has absolutely nothing,
nada
, to do with him anyway," I lied. It had everything to do with him. It wasn't so much the reading but the fact that I felt more secure spending time with an imaginary boyfriend than actually opening myself up to a real one. Our breakup had crushed me.

"Second of all, I know my book-boyfriend distractions are silly," I said. I wasn't delusional. I knew they weren't real. "But one thing is true. Not one of them will break my heart."

At that moment, I actually felt like I was channeling one of my characters. My voice was steady and controlled. Folding my hands on the table, I calmly continued stating my case. "I like to relax by reading a book. I don't have time to be distracted by a man. Excuse me, let me correct that. I don't have time for some guy to come into my life, turn it upside down, and keep me from the things that are important, just so he can leave me high and dry because it isn't happening for
him
." I slapped my hand over my heart for emphasis. I felt strongly that I made a good case.

In a comforting and soothing voice, Candace said, "That's where you're wrong. Not all guys are
him
. Look at you. You're a beautiful, smart, funny, and caring woman. You deserve it all." Sitting back, she tapped her finger on her lip, like she was pondering on how to proceed. "So, let me ask you something. You have to be honest, and then we'll let this go."

"Shoot." I wanted to get this over with.

"When was the last time you had, um…sex?" Candace asked, cocking her head to the side.

I was shocked to hear the question.
This is an invasion of privacy.
For almost two years, I had avoided this topic at all costs.

"Excuse me?" I huffed. I was insulted.

"Just answer the question," Candace deadpanned.

Although Macy looked a little shocked, she was certainly intrigued. Of course, this would interest her a lot more than book-boyfriend discussions.

"I'm not answering that question. It's none of your business." I crossed my arms and stared them down.

"Then, hand it over," Candace said.

She was playing dirty. This was her version of tough love.

"I will not hand over my Kindle," I protested.

Even though I had two more at home, I wasn't going to do it. I stood firm on my inalienable rights to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. Keeping my Kindle was my constitutional right.

However, because I didn't want to alienate myself from my friends, I conceded. "Fine! Do you mind rephrasing your question? And keep it down." My eyes shifted toward the neighboring tables. "I don't think the models and freaks on Lincoln Road need to hear about my sex life."

"It's a pretty straightforward question. Just answer it. When was the last time you had sex?" Candace asked.

Leaning forward, Macy was practically salivating. She wanted to hear the juicy tidbits of my sex life. I knew she was convinced that I had some secret lover hidden from them. There was no way in her book that I could go this long without a real penis. They were quickly going to be disappointed with my lack of a sex life.

"Well, it all depends on what you consider…" I paused, glancing at one then the other. "
Sex
. I think you need to be more specific."

"Seriously, Dani, you can answer the question. You're not Bill Clinton. When was the last time you had sexual relations?" Candace's eyes glimmered as she rubbed her hands together. "Oh, I get it. Let me clarify. When was the last time you had sex with a
man
?"

Macy had been resting her head on her arm, but at that moment, she fell over. I knew I had to be wearing a look of shock and absolute horror on my face. I wasn't a prude. It wasn't like I hadn't ever talked about my sex life. I had. I just hadn't talked about it in a long time.

Candace maintained her position.

"Do you mind keeping your voice down? Really, Candace, this is so unlike you," I said through clenched teeth.

I didn't like where this was heading. As I looked around, I noticed the patrons at the neighboring tables were staring at us.
Great
. Not only were my friends going to be privy to the specifics of my sex life, but strangers were going to get an earful, too.