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He blinked at my ramble.
I smiled innocently.
By the time I left with a new overnight bag in tow, I felt bad for Lane. It had to have been the quickest information dump ever! He had more questions now than before, but I hoped my suggestion would help. Rather than wait till we met up, I’d call him later when I got back to Greer’s house. FaceTime was our friend. We could still meet up on Thursday for dinner and shoptalk.
Whether Marcus flew in on Thursday or Friday didn’t matter. I didn’t want to see him before Friday. And I didn’t think he cared either way. He hadn’t sent a single text or tried to call me since yesterday. He was giving me the space I’d demanded.
In the elevator, I set my bag on the floor and fastened my watch.
I didn’t normally wear one, but I was going for a classy look. I mean, yeah, I’d still packed my Baby Yoda jammies, my Doctor Who toothbrush, and my Zootopia blanket, but I’d drawn the line at stuff that could be hidden away. For two reasons—not just to show Greer that I was more than a fetish, but because there might be kids around.
Who knew what next weekend would look like? Would Sloan and Greer invite me to stay another couple nights once I’d ended things with Marcus? If they did, Sloan’s four kids would be there.
Today at the munch, though, I’d traded my usual jeans and hoodie for a pair of nice chinos and my favorite gingham shirt that fit my body perfectly—all for Greer’s sake. Leather shoes, matching belt… I fucking got this.
I folded up the sleeves of my shirt before shrugging on my jacket, and then I ran a hand through my hair and picked up my bag again.
I was…oops, seven minutes past my five-minute promise.
Sloan spotted me through the passenger’s side window, and he smiled and said something to…probably Greer, because he started the engine right after.
I jumped in and tossed my bag onto the middle seat. “¡Vámanos! Sorry I’m late. I had to tell Lane about the fire, that I’m breaking up with Marcus, and that I’m currently staying with three hotties with bodies.”
Right now, everything felt great. To the point where I almost believed I’d never be confused about my feelings ever again. Maybe I’d even had my last nightmare on this clusterfuck part of my life. The future looked bright, even when I didn’t know what was going on.
Greer hiked his brows at me in the rearview for a second, then pulled out from the parking zone, and Sloan chuckled at what I’d said.
“Hear that, Greer? We’re hotties with bodies.”
“I heard he’s ditching Marcus,” Greer offered. “Preferably in the Potomac.”
I snickered and rolled my eyes. He was saying such things again!
“I actually have a little something for you, Sir.” I opened my bag and dug out the beanie I’d ordered for him. “It’s an I’m-sorry gift to keep you warm from when I was a stupidhead who didn’t consider your need for aftercare.”
I extended the beanie between the seats and caught his confused look as he accepted it.
I hoped he liked the print.
He placed it on his thigh and made a turn before he inspected the beanie, and by then, Sloan was already chuckling.
“What is it?” Archie got curious and tried to look over Greer’s shoulder.
I bit my lip nervously, watching Greer’s face. Or the side of his face visible to me. And I was so relieved when I saw his wide smile forming.
Since Greer and I shared an interest in history, particularly ancient Greece and the old Roman Empire, I’d illustrated a fasces symbol, an ax-like tool that represented power and authority. Except, my version was green, and the head of the ax had eyes and a frog’s mouth.
He flicked me a glance in the rearview. “You’re all fuckin’ heart, aren’t you? Thank you, boy.”
He liked it!
I beamed in triumph. “You’re welcome.”
“I don’t get it,” Archie said. “Does the ax mean something?”
“Yeah.” Greer sighed and drove us across the river. “It means I’ll sometimes think back on how good it felt to be called Dominus by a frog-obsessed little shit.”
He actually just said that. Good luck wiping the smile off my face now.
Gosh.
Master Greer sure knew how to send mixed signals of interest and affection.
Turned out something could wipe the smile off my face.
When we arrived at Macklin’s restaurant in Logan Circle, I spotted fellow members with somber expressions.
Rather than walking up the steps to one of DC’s most popular brunch places, it felt like we were arriving at a funeral.
I spotted Gretchen, Ella, and Kit with long faces. Gretchen even had tears in her eyes as she hugged Lucas.
The building had once been residential, and Mack had turned it into a restaurant full of small dining rooms with different themes, from Caribbean and shabby chic to Hollywood’s golden age and regal fancy. I’d actually given him a portrait of the queen of Denmark last year, which he now displayed in the fancy-pants room next to the queen of England and the crown princess of Sweden.
