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“But, there’s lemon meringue pie. Or coconut cream. Or Boston cream.”
Sophie groaned. Boston cream pie was her favorite dessert. Which Wayne and Darren knew, of course. Just like they knew she liked baked ziti and French cut green beans and salad loaded with radicchio. And Shiraz. They’d plied her with all her favorite foods from the minute Darren had ushered her through the door of their cozy Bed-Stuy apartment. As if comfort food, no matter how delicious, would make her forget her new reputation.
“Let’s have some coffee,” Darren suggested. “Watch a movie. We can have pie later.”
“Guys. I really appreciate all of this but pie or no pie, I’m still ruined.” She gulped her wine.
Wayne patted her shoulder. “There’s always Henry’s propositi—”
“No,” she and Darren answered in unison.
Wayne held up his hands. “Okay, okay. Plan B. You could sue for libel?”
Darren grimaced. “I don’t think she can. For one thing, that would take too long. By the time she won a case, the damage would already be done. And they didn’t claim she was an escort. They just speculated as to the reason Henry Medina would be handing a gorgeous woman an envelope full of cash.”
Sophie thunked her forehead against the table. “See? I couldn’t even really prove them wrong. Like I told him.” she sneered the pronoun. “We did sleep together, and he did give me money. So I guess I am what they say I am.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Darren said. “The two events are unrelated, remember? And even if they weren’t, you didn’t take the money.”
“So I’m not even good at being an escort. Great.”
“Well,” Wayne said. “You’re in good company. Julia Roberts wasn’t either.”
Sophie’s head jerked up. “What?”
Wayne’s brows merged with his hairline they shot up so high. “Pretty Woman. The movie? How have you never seen that? We have to watch it. Right now.” He began tugging her up from the table. Sophie gave a soggy giggle.
“Honey,” Darren warned softly. “I don’t know if that’s the best choice right now.”
“Oh.” Wayne’s shoulders slumped. “Yeah, you’re right. Sorry, Soph.”
“No, it’s fine. Let’s do it. Clearly my cinematic education has been lacking. Show me this Pretty Woman you speak of.”
Wayne moved to the DVD player and sorted through the collection of movies him and Darren stored beside it. “You know we’re going to back out of the deal,” he said as he pulled a movie from the pile.
Sophie frowned. “What deal?” Was he reneging on the Boston cream pie?
“The apartment. There’s no way we’re going to go through with it now. Right?” He cast his husband a raised brow.
Darren nodded. “Oh, totally. He can stick his apartment in his incredibly cute backside.”
Both Wayne and Sophie shot him dark looks. Darren held up his hands. “What? He’s a total jerk, and there’s no way we’re taking that apartment, but you can’t deny that his butt is fantastic.”
She gave a soft laugh knowing that it was true. “You guys are taking that apartment.”
“Soph, no,” Darren replied.
Wayne squeezed her shoulder. “We don’t have to, Sophie. We’ll find something else.”
“At that price? Hardly. And anyway, if you’re in there then Henry can’t make more money on it. Think of it as sticking it to him for me.” She poked a finger into Darren’s chest. “And not a word from you.”
Wayne’s gave her a skeptical side glance as he poured them each another glass of wine. “Okay then. To sticking it to Henry Medina!”
“Hear, hear!” Sophie cheered, raising the glass to her lips.
***
“I never should have had that last glass of wine.” Sophie groaned. Her reflection seemed to agree. She looked terrible. There were dark smudges under her eyes and her skin was a little pale. Not to mention the fact that her head was throbbing like a particularly difficult tango beat.
