Page 81 of Love Overdose: St. Louis

His expression remained calm, but warmth entered his eyes.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

He lifted my hand and kissed my knuckles.

“Then I’d be honored.”

The locker-room door opened, and Journey stepped out wearing jeans and a purple blouse. She stopped when she saw our joined hands.

“What did I miss?”

I looked at the man I was becoming more certain about by the day.

“Nothing yet,” I said. “But you’re about to help us celebrate.”

“Celebrate what?”

I smiled.

“Elijah is meeting Malik.”

11

elijah

2:17 P.M.

Sunday

Frankie had been quiet for ten consecutive minutes. I glanced at her as I stopped at a red light. She sat angled toward the passenger window in a sleeveless yellow dress that skimmed her knees. She had showered and changed at the studio before lunch, but a faint flush remained across her cheeks from the class. Her fingers moved along the strap of her purse, sliding up and down the leather without purpose.

“You’re nervous.”

Her hand stilled. “I’m not nervous.”

“You haven’t spoken since we left the restaurant.”

“That doesn’t mean anything.”

“You talked through most of lunch.”

“Journey talked through most of lunch.”

“You talked whenever she stopped to breathe.”

Frankie turned toward me. “Maybe I don’t have anything to say.”

“You always have something to say.”

Her mouth pulled to one side as she fought a smile. The light changed. I continued through the intersection, following the directions she had entered into my navigation system. Her mother lived fifteen minutes from the restaurant. The number on the screen had been decreasing steadily and so had Frankie’s conversation.

I reached across the center console and covered her hand.

“What are you worried about?”

“I’m not worried.”