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“I’m peachy,” I said.
“Me, too. I promise I’ll do my part. I won’t let you down.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” I dried my hands under the hand dryer.
I glanced at Dani as the machine blasted at an eardrum-breaking level.
“Of course. I don’t know what I’m talking about either,” she hollered over the noise. Then she winked in a weirdly exaggerated manner.
I left the bathroom, hoping Dani wouldn’t follow me.
I’d lost my appetite.
As I reached Gabriel, I said, “I’ve changed my mind. Can we just go back to your place and eat in?”
“Of course.”
THIRTY-TWO
GABRIEL
Layana set down the bags she was carrying, tossed my suit jacket over the top of the sofa, and strutted from the living room into the kitchen. My attention lingered only a moment in the messy way the jacket dangled before it flicked back to Layana’s swaying hips and long, curvy legs.
She had the best thighs, thick and soft. And I loved the way she squealed and squirmed when I nipped them.
The kitchen island blocked my view as she reached the fridge, breaking the spell. I set down my own bags and emptied the contents of my pockets into the bowl by the door.
But my phone screen caught my eye, because of the numerous missed messages upon it. I’d silenced my phone in the morning to avoid this exact moment—the one where I was tempted to check what emergency could be happening to demand multiple people that required my immediate attention on a Sunday.
“There’s lots of prepared stuff in the fridge,” Layana said from right beside me.
I startled, not having realized she was so close.
She looked smaller without her heels on, like she could fit perfectly under my chin if I pulled her close.
“Do you have a meal service?” Layana asked.
“Personal chef.”
“Of course.” She shook her head.
“Celeste comes in once a week,” I said, feeling like I needed to explain, as if hiring someone to do their chosen job was an offense. “She prepares meals, and I heat them. I compensate her well.”
“I’m sure you do.” Layana’s voice was soft, her smile softer. “What’s all that?”
She pointed to my lit-up phone in the bowl.
“Texts and calls from today.”
“Everything okay? Do you need to call them back?”
Even though I didn’t want to, I picked up my phone to check. “Pamela sent links to Socialface and congratulations on our successful evening at the gala. Jasper sent?—”
Photographs filled the screen, selfies of him with the pair of us in the background. We looked happy, like we belonged together.
Layana leaned her head against my arm to peek. “Aww, we look cute. And he’s such a ham.”
“Yeah,” I said.
