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“Or Dez. They’re both single right now.”
“What about Giorgio?”
“Ayesha, I love you, but you’re not the woman for Giorgio. She’s out there, somewhere, but I’d rather you stay single or get ten cats and a python before you try to tame that beast.”
She nodded. “Noted. And I love you too, Curtis.”
He grinned. “You love me, baby?”
“I always will.”
“Go ahead and call me ‘Big Daddy’ one good time.”
“Bye.”
After the wedding, she and Joel would reset. Then, before she knew it, her thoughts would settle, and he and Sydney would get back together. That was the likeliest outcome based on what she’d observed so far. Sydney was the queen of his heart, and the last thing either of them needed was to mess up their friendship when the boys loved him the way they did.
She looked up.
Joel raised a glass to his lips, gaze locked with hers, the jewel-encrusted watch on his wrist sparkling and emphasizing his exposed forearms.
Maybe they could sleep together—once. Afterward, they could pretend it never happened and return to normal. Something told her he could scratch one hell of an itch.
She shook her head, hoping that if she did so enough, her brain would eventually return to a whole egg rather than the yolk the evening had turned it into. It would also help if he stopped looking at her, tempting her. All it would take was one slight tilt of her head, and he would follow her up to her room. The boys were off with their honorary grandparents, which meant she’d have all night to wear Joel the fuck out.
She hopped up from her seat.
The first server she came to, she snatched another glass from their tray. There wasn’t any alcohol at the wedding, but she downed the colorful virgin cocktail like a shot and then crushed the ice between her molars.
Green flashed at the corner of her eye.
Sydney.
Even better, it was Sydney and Kofi.
They were on the dance floor, bodies moving together to N.E.R.D and Rihanna. They weren’t as close as she would have liked, but she searched for Joel’s gaze—the search took less than a second—and tipped her head at Kofi and Sydney. He followed, watched them for a moment, and then turned back to her.
Ayesha swallowed more ice.
That should have worked. He was still in love with Sydney. All signs pointed to it. Had he been one of her clients, she might have chalked some of that “love” up to fear; Joel was more concerned about failing at another relationship, in general, than failing at a relationship with Sydney again. Then she had a hunch that Sydney did want children, and if he found out, it would devastate him. But it wouldn’t devastate him primarily because it was Sydney.
Over the last several months, she’d picked up on an insecurity she wasn’t sure whether he fully knew existed. Joel believed he was good enough to be a husband, but he wasn’t good enough that a woman would ever look at him and find him worthy of forever and family.
He set his glass on a passing tray, pushed off the wall, and it almost looked like he was headed in her direction. Then, as he stepped around gyrating and bumping bodies, it dawned on her that hewasheading in her direction.
This wedding needed to end, casting off its spell. If it didn’t, and soon, she would spend the night with Joel Lattimore. She would ride him until the wheels fell off.
Someone grabbed her elbow.
She looked up into clear gray eyes.
“Hey, your name’s Ayesha, right?” the man, one of Tayler’s hot Cuban cousins, asked. “I’m Isaac. Would you like to dance? I’ve been meaning to ask you all night.”
She turned back to Joel, who’d stopped in his pursuit. He’d cocked his head to the side, studying Isaac, and she got the sudden urge to tell Isaac to run. Then Joel faced her again and shook his head.
It wasn’t discreet.
It wasn’t slight.
