Cecilia
I was halfway through my seared salmon when Yvonne blindsided me with that question.
“So, did you look through the photos I sent you? Which vibe are you leaning toward?” she asked, swirling her wine like we were discussing handbags and not, well… battery-operated accessories.
I nearly choked on my sparkling water.
“You mean those photos?” I coughed, grabbing my napkin.
Yvonne, of course, just grinned, totally unfazed. “Obviously. I figured you’d appreciate a little visual prep before we go shopping.”
“Shopping,” I echoed, flatly. “For... toys.”
She raised a perfectly plucked brow. “You’ve been married, Cecilia. Don’t tell me you’ve never owned one.”
“I didn’t say that,” I muttered, stabbing a cherry tomato a little too aggressively. “I just don’t usually d
