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“You should’ve been a poet, Gray.”
“Maybe in another lifetime.”
Carefully, she extracts herself from my lap and climbs into her seat.
She leans over and presses her lips to my cheek. Fast and hard. “I had a really nice time tonight,” she whispers.
“Same here.” I twist a lock of her hair around my finger and tug gently. “I like when your hair’s down.”
“Thanks. I do too.” She slides out of the truck and smiles up at me before slamming the door shut.
I press the button to open the passenger side window.
“Serena,” I call after her.
She stops and turns, her hand on her car door handle.
“It’s late. I’m going to follow you home. To make sure you get inside safely. Promise I’m not stalking you.”
Her lips part and her eyes widen. She doesn’t say anything, though. What the hell kind of men has she had in her life? That I want to make sure she’s safe shouldn’t shock her so much.
Or maybe she’s worried I’m a creep, and she doesn’t want me to know where she lives.
Fuck, why is all of this so damn complicated?
Chapter Sixteen
Serena
I dodge people on the sidewalk and hurry into the Starbucks across from Empire Med. I glance at my phone for the time and find a Where are you? text from Emily.
I scan the crowded room then spot her at a table near the back, waving frantically. My lips curve as I take in her bright red polka dot dress paired with a black cardigan and wide, shiny black belt. She looks like a mashup of a 50s pin-up girl and Minnie Mouse.
“Girl, I was just about to leave.” She jumps up and hugs me. “I haven’t seen you since before Christmas. How are you?”
“Good.” Breathless, I fall into the chair across from her. “Shoot. I should go order. It’s busy.”
“I ordered two coffees. I hope that’s okay.”
“You didn’t have to do that, but thank you.” I gesture toward the counter. “Do you want me to grab muffins or something?”
She shakes her head, her sleek red bob gently shimmering with the movement. “No carbs for me.”
“Em-er-ee!” one of the baristas shouts. “Two coffees for Emery!”
“Good grief,” Emily moans. “Every time.” She jumps up and hurries to the counter.
While I’m alone, I slip off my coat and tuck it into the chair next to me. I can’t shake the paranoia that someone in the crowded cafe will spill coffee on it, ruining the nicest gift I’ve ever received.
Emily returns, setting two steaming cups in the middle of the table. “I poured cream in both.” She tosses a variety of sweeteners on the table. “Couldn’t remember what you use, though.”
I sift through, searching for monk fruit, and grin when I find it. “Thank you.”
The rich, caramelized, nutty scent fills my nose as I lift the cup for my first tentative sip.
“Perfect.” I wrap my hands around my cup to warm them.
“So, what’s been going on?” Her gaze slides sideways. “I like the new jacket.”
I reach over and pet it like it’s my security blanket. “Thanks.”
She leans in, peering at me closely. “What’s that face?”
“Nothing.”
“Something’s up. Spill.”
We haven’t been friends for years like Amanda and I have been. But Emily knows me way too well.
My life’s been too chaotic to maintain many friendships. I have exactly two besties and they move in separate orbits. Amanda’s the friend of my past club girl days. We’ve done a lot together. Used to want the same things—or so I thought. Sometimes I think we’re still friends only out of familiarity and obligation.
Emily’s my role model friend. She’s who I’d like to see future me become. I’m sort of stuck in between—who I used to be and who I want to be.
The stubborn part of me, here in the present, doesn’t want to share any information about Grayson with Emily. She won’t approve, and I want to keep him all to myself. But I also want to talk it through with someone who knows some of what I’ve been through.
“I think I’ve met someone I really like,” I say into my coffee cup.
“Really?” Her voice rises. “Tell me more.”
Where to begin? “Well, he’s a new patient of mine.”
She waves that off. “He can find another therapist. True love shouldn’t be stopped by petty rules.”
“They’re not petty,” I protest, even though I keep breaking them myself. Hypocrite, thy name is Serena.
“He’s a bit older,” I confess.
Her eyes narrow. “Define ‘a bit.’”
I blurt out a ballpark number. Her eyes widen for a second, then she settles into a Cheshire cat grin. “Hello, Daddy.”
“Eww, no.”
She twists in her chair to pat her own ass. “Spank me, Daddy. I’ve been a very, very bad girl.”
“Jesus, will you knock it off?” I scold in a hushed tone, casting a furtive glance around the cafe. Maybe I need to search for a new role model. “People are looking at you.”
