I hit send before I can talk myself out of it.
Only when I see the message has been delivered do I sink my head into my hands because that is possibly the stupidest-ass message I have ever sent anyone in the history of sending messages.
I groan, loudly.
“Are you okay?” Miko asks.
“Oh, yeah, I’m fucking perfect,” I grumble.
Miko flashes Harley a quick look that seems to tell a long story, but I have no interest in finding out what it is. I’m too busy feeling like a fucking idiot.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Maeve
“What a fecking eejit,” I say out loud as I read their message with the widest smile on my face.
“What?” Arabella asks me as she takes a drink of her wine.
“Oh, nothing,” I say, like a fecking eejit myself.
“Yeah, that’s not going to work.” Bella places her glass on the table and pins her eyes on me.
“Well, it was worth a try,” I mumble, picking up my own wine and wondering if I can take a sip that lasts long enough for Arabella to forget this line of conversation completely.
“Who was it?” she demands, her dark brown eyes daggers on mine.
“Nobody.”
“I’ll be honest with you, hamster, coy doesn’t suit you.”
“Well, I’ll be honest with you, munchkin, noseyreallysuits you.”
“Which is why I’m not going to drop it. I’m not being funny but you never smile like that at your phone these days. So tell me, who is it?”
I sigh, heavily. “Loncey.”
“Finally!” she declares, her hands slapping the table hard enough that a small group of men in suits near us turn to look at where the noise came from. We’ve met in the same bar we usually meet at, again shortly before end-of-work time so we’re surrounded by the usual crowd. It’s the only time Arabella can seem to grab together, so I’ll take it, especially with her busy ChristmasNutcrackerseason already in full swing.
“Sooooooo,” she drags out the word, “what did they say?”
“They’re telling me my fecking horoscope.” I read their message again.
“Jesus, really?”
The smile is back on my face, stretching my lips and bunching up my cheeks. “Yeah, it’s their thing.”
“Oh. Fuck.” Arabella’s earnest tone has me dropping my phone and looking at her.
“What?”
“You’re in love with them.”
“No, I am not,” I say and surprise myself with how confident I sound when my whole body knows it’s a blatant lie.
“You are!”
