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“You think?” I mutter, unimpressed.
“I mean, when he started calling you puppy because of your doggy kink and then about going potty out back.”
“Don’t,” I cry as I put my hands over my eyes in horror. “Makes me embarrassed just thinking of it.”
“And the sleeping with his dad after dating his brother bit.” She laughs. “He’s fucking funny, if you ask me.”
“Oh hell, kill me.” I cringe. “What the hell made him think of that?”
“So afterward?” She smiles hopefully.
“Nothing.” I shrug. “He’s just my neighbor, and there is nothing there, and that’s the end of that.”
“Except it’s not.”
I need to defuse this situation and stop thinking and talking about stupid Henley James.
I picture him and Vanessa rolling around in the sheets last night, and I let out a deep sigh. “Believe me, it is.”
It’s Sunday afternoon, and Chloe and I stand back to look at the color patches on the wall.
“I mean, this white on the end looks fresh,” I say as I point to the paint sample.
“True”—she twists her lips—“but the cream looks warm and homey.”
“Also true.” I try to imagine how it’s going to look with the furnishings.
“So what style are we going for?” she asks.
“Like, expensive country.”
“Then the cream?”
“But I also love expensive Hamptons,” I add.
“Then the duck-egg blue.”
“But the outside of the house is going to be white.”
“Hmm.” Chloe thinks for a moment. “I feel like you should get an interior designer’s input. I mean, you don’t want to put all this work into it for it to look like shit.”
“Maybe.”
Henley
“Morning.” I step onto the crowded elevator and push the button before turning to face the doors.
11TH FLOOR
Silence hangs in the air as we rise. Monday-morning blues. Seems everyone has it today, not just me.
My mind goes back to the weekend and its turn of events.
The doors open, and I stride out and walk through the reception area.
“Good morning, Henley.” Jenny smiles.
“Morning, Jen.”
