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“He’s included. And anybody else who makes you feel unsafe. You want to give me a list?”
“I don’t think that’s necessary.” I laughed.
“If that changes, let me know.”
I nodded. “I will.”
For a moment, he just stared at me, and then, “Can I be honest with you?”
“Please do.”
He smirked. “I wasn’t lying about my reasons for discouraging you against going out, but…”
“But what?”
“A further reason for my hesitation is that… I’d prefer you not look as good as you do right now without me on your arm.”
My mouth dropped open a little, but I quickly recovered. “Are you telling me how I can and can’t dress?” I asked, gesturing at the—admittedly sexy—form-fitting orange dress I’d chosen to wear out with my friends.
“Not at all, you should be admired,” he answered. “I’d just like everybody to know who you belong to while they’re looking.”
Challenge that, bitch.
I should.
Ireallyshould.
Instead, I couldn’t get over my internal squeal over those words, couldn’t fight off that little giddy feeling fast enough before he’d already turned to go back down the stairs, and the moment had passed.
Shit.
By the time I’d gathered myself mentally, he was already halfway to the kitchen, presumably to speak to Chef. I took a slightly different path, landing in the dining room with Alexis and Morgan. They’d already located the bar and quickly mixed a cocktail for me too as I joined them.
“Uhh… wait a damn minute. Lex,whereis your engagement ring?” I asked, noticing the absence of the mega-watt rock her man had put on her finger not that long ago. She’d been in no hurry to move forward with the planning of a wedding, but this was the first time I’d seen her without it since the night he put it on.
“Oh!” she exclaimed, looking at her empty hand like I’d just given her breaking news. “I must’ve left it in my jewelry tray on my way out earlier.”
I looked at Morgan, and she looked at me, mirroring my skepticism.
“Don’t do that,” Alexis begged, slumping onto a bar stool. “It doesn’t mean anything.”
“Would Dale agree that it doesn’t mean anything?” Morgan asked. The same exact question on my mind as I took the seat beside Alexis.
“Yeah… did you reallyforgetor is it more like aforget him?” I prompted, leaning in.
She sighed.
Shesighed.
What was with the heavy sighs?!
“I don’t know.” She shrugged. “He’s been weird. But work has been crazy, and he doesn’t like how busy I am. He tried topay meto quit. As if I’d ever!”
My eyes went wide.
As much as plenty of women might—rightfully and understandably—dream of being “retired” from work, Alexis wasn’t built like that; it was a trait all three of us had in common.
We’d been blessed to find our passions and as suchlovedour careers.
