Love on Lexington Avenue - Lauren Layne Page 0,10
a married woman, but because come to think of it, Claire wasn’t sure she’d ever really mastered flirting.
“Yes, flirting,” Audrey said with a little laugh. “You know, eye contact, lingering smiles, banter.”
“But she’s with Oliver.”
Audrey smiled kindly. “Sure, but flirting’s not always about romancing someone.”
“Then what’s it about? How does one decide with whom to flirt?”
“With whom—what—” Audrey broke off when she saw Naomi approaching, “Oh thank God. Backup.”
“On what?” Naomi demanded.
“Trying to explain to Claire the nature of flirting.”
Naomi shook her head. “Pointless endeavor. Flirting’s not an explainable thing. It’s more of an art than a science. It just happens.”
That wasn’t a good enough answer for Claire. There had to be a reason why men smiled and laughed with Naomi—and Audrey, for that matter—whereas Claire generally only warranted bland smiles or polite indifference.
Yes, her friends were gorgeous. Naomi was the sort of woman people looked twice at, and not just because of her bright blue eyes, dark red hair, and toned runner’s body. But it was her energy that drew people in. The way she seemed to own every room she walked into and dared people to ignore her.
And Audrey was beautiful in her own right with long shiny brown hair and wide Bambi brown eyes, but that wasn’t why people flocked to her. It was her sweetness. Not saccharine sweetness, but a genuine goodness that people wanted to be around.
What did Claire have?
She lacked Naomi’s boldness and Audrey’s effortless charm.
She was polite, sure. Likable, hopefully. Traits she’d always thought were enviable, but now she wasn’t so sure. Where had that gotten her?
She was widowed. Alone. Bored.
She had no career, no romantic prospects—not that she wanted those—no hobbies. Nobody looked twice at her, and she never looked twice at anyone else.
Claire was more sure than ever that she was due for a change. The spontaneous cupcake date with Audrey on her birthday had been a good start, but it was only the start. She wanted more of that. More of doing whatever she wanted just because.
“What’s going on with you?” Naomi demanded, giving Claire an assessing look. “You’re all up in your head.” She waved a finger around Claire’s head as she said it.
“Too long a story for a hardware store.”
Naomi studied her a moment longer, then nodded, pointing at Claire’s purse. “You get what you need?”
Claire nodded. She’d picked up just about every paint swatch she could find in the pink/rose/mauve category. Partially because she was warming to the idea of pink accents in her newly renovated home, partially because it pleased her to imagine Scott Turner’s face when he saw her haul.
“Perfect! It’s time for your belated birthday lunch. Which is on me since I was left out of the actual birthday festivities. Cupcakes without me. The betrayal burns my very soul.”
“We texted. Twice,” Audrey said in defense. “You didn’t respond.”
Naomi inspected her manicure. “Oliver and I were busy.”
The slightly satisfied look on her face said exactly what they were busy with.
“Oh?” Claire said innocently. “Netflix or . . .”
“Or Netflix and chill?” Audrey said in a sly tone.
Claire looked at Audrey. “What does that mean?”
“Do not answer that question,” Naomi said, pointing a finger at Audrey. “Come on. Lunch.”
Naomi charged out of the store, never breaking stride in her five-inch Jimmy Choos. Claire and Audrey exchanged a bemused glance and followed. It was pointless to argue with a determined Naomi.
Fifteen minutes later, the three women were seated at a trendy French bistro as a server opened a bottle of champagne and poured three glasses. When he moved away, Naomi lifted a glass in a toast. “To our birthday girl. How does thirty-five feel?”
“Well,” Claire said, taking a sip. “So far, better than thirty-four. I no longer have a husband to cheat on me.”
“Dark,” Naomi said approvingly. “Very dark, and I like it. Now, fill me in, what did I miss when you got cupcakes without me?”
“You mean when you were having sex with Oliver?” Claire countered.
Audrey leaned in. “By the way, that’s what Netflix and chill means.”
Claire frowned. “Why not just say sex?”
“See, that’s why you can’t flirt, dear. You’re too wonderfully literal and straightforward.”
“It doesn’t feel wonderful,” Claire muttered. “It feels boring.”
She looked at Naomi. “Did you know that my favorite kind of cupcake is vanilla? Was vanilla,” she corrected quickly.
“Oh, not this again,” Audrey said, slumping slightly in her chair.
“Sure,” Naomi said. “What’s wrong with vanilla?”
“I’ve just been wondering what it says about me that my favorite cupcake is flavorless, colorless.”
“They have a color.