“Ah,” I sigh blissfully. “The flight.”
“Hold on. Don’t answer that yet,” she grunts. She closes the front door behind her with her foot and speed-walks into the kitchen, the brown paper bag in her right hand looking as if it weighs a ton. Lo plops the bag on the counter and puffs out a heavy sigh. “Okay. Proceed.”
“The flight was interesting. I saw a certain someone.”
“What?Who??”
“Remember Othello Kingston?”
Lo pulls out a mini carton of water from the brown paper bag she’d just placed on the counter and pops open the top. She thinks long and hard as she takes a swig. “The author you met at Gia’s party a few months ago?”
“Yes. Him.”
“Bullshit! Are you serious?”
“Very.”
Lo squeals so loud I have to hold the phone back at arm’s length.
“Of course I remember that sexy ass man! I interviewed him forModthat one time. His book was on the New York Times Best Seller list.”
“Right. Right.”
“What about him?”
“His seat was right next to mine.”
Lo coughs up her water. “Wait. What?”
“I know. What are the fucking odds, right?”
“That’s insane. You were just stalking his dating profile last month.”
I suck my teeth. “Really, Lo? I was not,” I roll my eyes. “I deleted the app.”
“Yeah, but you kept it longer than you wanted in hopes that he would finally match with you.”
“Girl, please, you’re making me sound like a creeper.”
“I mean,yousaid it, not me. What the hell is he doing in Hawaii? That place is for boo’d up vacations and weddings.”
“He’s here for a wedding. In Maui. At the same resort.”
“Is he getting married?” Her face looks so repulsed I can’t help but laugh.
“No, his cousin is getting married. At the same resort I’m staying at.”
“Wow! Yeah, what are the odds of that?”
The phrase of the day.
Then Lo’s eyes widen. “Oh, my God. What if he’s there for Carina Sterling’s wedding? Could Gavin be his cousin?”
The idea never crossed my mind. But that can’t be true because that would mean…
“Okay. Wait,” Lo murmurs, cutting into my thoughts. I can tell she’s no longer looking at me, her eyes flicking back and forth across her phone screen. “Ah,” she grunts.
“What?” I ask.
