Serena Singh Flips the Script by Sonya Lalli

Author:Sonya Lalli [Lalli, Sonya]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction
ISBN: 9780593100943
Google: pQTlDwAAQBAJ
Amazon: 059310093X
Publisher: Penguin
Published: 2021-02-16T00:00:00+00:00

Ainsley’s town house was warm and cozy. Friendly. MacKenzie was already in bed, and Ainsley said Nikesh was out in the garage working on his “brew.” She said it sarcastically but with so much love and affection I could tell she was proud of him. I felt slightly awkward for having invited myself over. At the same time, being over here felt totally natural.

“I’m sorry,” I said suddenly. We had taken our plates of lasagna to the couch, and I set mine down on the coffee table. “It got pretty weird at work today.”

“It was my fault. I overstepped. Your relationships are your business.”

“But maybe you’re right.” I shrugged. “Maybe I should tell Becket I’ve been spending time with Jesse.”

She shrugged. “Did you feel guilty when you saw him today?”

Was our lunch of fried eggs and milkshakes only today? It felt like ages ago.

I shook my head. “Nothing’s going on between us. But the optics are bad whether I say something or not.”

“Optics. Ha!” She laughed. “You’re such an adman.”

“Oh, whatever. But you get it, right? Not telling Becket about Jesse makes it seem like I’m hiding something. But if I told him? It would just give rise to suspicion.”

“Well, I suppose if I was in Becket’s position, I’d want to know. And if you’re having a talk, you might as well make clear you’re not planning to have a fam—damn it! Sorry. I’m overstepping again.”

“You’re not. You’re being a good friend. And I guess . . . friends sometimes say things you don’t want to hear.” I laughed, lifting my feet up onto the couch. “Anyway, let’s change the subject. We’re both failing the Bechdel test right now.”

“Fuck the Bechdel test.” Ainsley rolled her eyes. “Sometimes, two women just need to sit and chat about dudes, and it doesn’t make us any less feminist, now does it?”

She smiled at me as she wiped a bit of tomato sauce from her cheek. We’d only known each other for a few months, but suddenly I couldn’t imagine a time when she wasn’t in my life. When I wouldn’t want her to be in my life.

“Ainsley,” I said, shyly. “I really like you.”

“Aw, shucks, girl. I’m married.”

“Shut up.” I laughed.

“Sorry.”

“You know what I mean,” I said. “I really like being friends with you, and I want to be . . .”

“Friendlier?”

“Yeah. I want to be like . . . Joey and Chandler on Friends.”

Ainsley nodded. “Oprah Winfrey and gal pal Gayle?”

“Kate Winslet and Leo.”

“I didn’t know they were friends,” she said.

“They are. Since the Titanic went down.”

Ainsley grinned, shoveling another bite of lasagna into her mouth. “So we’re taking this to the next level, huh? Should we go get our nails done together?”

“Girl,” I said, flipping my hair. “Let’s go to Vegas!”

“Girl,” she repeated. “I want to meet your parents.”

“Wow,” I said, laughing, kicking her with my feet. “Now you’re getting ahead of yourself.”

We went on like that for a while, and after the giggles had passed, I thanked her for letting me come over and told her all about my evening with Natasha and Mrs.

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