“Do you think you’ll continue with the class?” Ellie asks, so hopeful.
“Depends on Lottie’s schedule,” I answer. “She has a start-up business with her sister, so her time is limited.”
“Really?” Dave asks, looking interested. “What’s the—” He looks down at his phone, which buzzes on the table. “Crap.” With a sorrowful look, he says, “That’s Gregory. He’s been wanting to do a walk-through of one of our properties, and I told him to text me when he’s ready. Unfortunately, I have to cut this ice cream date short.”
“Totally understand,” I say, offering him a wave. “We should probably get going soon as well. After we finish this ice cream, of course.”
Dave stands and helps Ellie out of her chair. “Yes, enjoy the sunny day. Hopefully we’ll run into you again soon.”
“I’d love that,” Ellie coos. “Just love you two.”
Together, hand in hand, they say their goodbyes, and then they take off toward their parked car.
Instead of releasing myself from Lottie right away, I keep my arm firmly planted where it is and ask, “Are you going to share that?”
“Nope,” she says before taking a huge lick of the Rocky Road ice cream we decided to get together. “This is all mine. It’s the least you can do.”
“You know, you weren’t the only one who suffered through that black hole back there,” I hiss into her ear while keeping my posture and face neutral. Dave and Ellie could still see us.
“Are you talking about your blue balls?” Lottie asks, a devious smile on her lips.
Yeah, maybe a little.
Blue balls are in full force right now.
Doesn’t help that I keep picturing her above me, grinding down on my cock while she grabs her breast . . .
“Lottie . . . Lottie Bug, is that you?”
Instantly, Lottie goes stiff next to me as a leggy blonde approaches us. Decked out in a bubble-gum pink skirt and white top, the woman looks as if she was plucked from Legally Blonde.
Lottie sits up and casually places her hand on my thigh. That move right there, her hand claiming me, tells me one important thing: whoever this person is, she needs me to be in character.
“Angela,” Lottie says after swallowing her ice cream. “What, uh, what are you doing here?”
Angela? As in . . . the ex-friend who fired Lottie?
Angela glances my way and I know the minute she recognizes me, because she tilts her sunglasses down on the edge of her nose and her mouth falls open.
Ignoring Lottie entirely, she asks, “Huxley Cane, is that you?”
Am I supposed to know her? Because she’s making it seem as if we know each other.
I shift in my seat, moving closer to Lottie as my arm slips up to her shoulder rather than resting on her chair. “I’m sorry, have we met?” I ask.
Lottie leans in toward me. Her body language is screaming for help. I reassure her with a stroke of my hand over her shoulder.
Angela waves her hand and says, “You’re too funny. We met at the Stardom Gala last year. I was the gorgeous goddess in the purple floor-length dress.” She tosses her hair over her shoulder.
“Huh,” I say, tilting my head. “Can’t quite place you.”
The softest of snorts escapes Lottie’s nose, and I’m sure I’m the only one who heard it.
“Well, there were a lot of people there that night.” Angela sets her hand on her hip. “How crazy that we run into each other now.” She then looks at Lottie. I watch as her eyes fall on my arm around Lottie, the closeness of our bodies, and then . . . it clicks. “Oh my, Lottie, are you two . . . together?”
Lottie glances in my direction, so I take that moment to lift her hand that’s holding the ice cream, bring it to my mouth, and take a bite from it before winking at her. “Hiding me from your friends again, babe? What did I tell you? Stop keeping me a secret.”
“Wait,” Angela says, her mind whirling. “Are you serious? You two are dating?” She motions her manicured finger between us.
Lottie nods. Keeping her eyes on me, she says, “Yes, we’re dating.”
“Babe, we’re more than dating.” I take the ice cream from her and then lift her hand, showing off her massive engagement ring. I give it a kiss and say, “We’re getting married.”
“What?” Angela nearly shrieks. “Since when? You never said anything to me, Lottie.”
I turn toward Angela and, with a smile on my face, I say, “We’ve been busy. Isn’t that right, babe?” I lean over and kiss the side of her neck.
Lottie’s grip on my leg tightens as she says, “Yeah, very busy. But, yeah, we’re engaged.”
“I see, well . . . can’t say that I’m not hurt you didn’t tell me.”
Wow, she has some fucking nerve.
“That’s what happens when you sever ties with your best friend, Angela. They take that as a sign to move on.” Lottie smiles at me and offers me the ice cream again so I can take another mouthful. “I’ve moved on.”
Angela steps back, hand to her chest. “Lottie, you’re being so cruel. And here I was, coming over to see if you wanted to have lunch with me sometime.” Oh, what a load of bullshit. “We really miss you at the company. Maybe we can figure something out. Especially now that you’re dating Huxley Cane, we could partner up.”
From the corner of my eye, I see Lottie’s jaw clench. Her anger’s spiking, and I’m seeing another side of her. Sure, I’ve made her angry, but those conversations we’ve had almost seem superficial now, compared to this. This is true anger. This is from the pit of her stomach.
And I can see her wanting to jump down Angela’s throat, which will do nothing for Lottie, so I stop it before it can happen. “We’re actually late for a meeting, babe.” I slip my arm off her shoulder and instead take her hand. “I’m sure Angela doesn’t mind catching up with you some other time.” I give Angela a look.
“Oh, of course not,” she says easily. “Don’t let me keep you. But I’d love to chat at some point, Lottie. I miss you. And you know how busy I am. Give the reunion some thought. It needs a nice Lottie touch to it.” She twiddles her fingers at Lottie and then heads into the ice cream shop.
Lottie stays silent as she sits there, holding the ice cream, but not saying a thing. Not even moving.
Unsure of what to do, I say, “So, that’s Angela?”
Lottie stands and hands me the ice cream. “Can we leave now?”
“Yeah, if that’s what you want.”
“It is,” she says, and for the first time since I’ve known her, I take her hand in mine not because I’m putting on a show, but because I think she needs it.
The clanging of spoons in our soup bowls is the only sound in the dining room. The silence is so deafening that if someone walked in, they’d think they were walking in on a funeral.
A funeral for my self-respect.
Lottie hasn’t really said anything to me since we left the ice cream shop. She doesn’t seem mad, more . . . contemplative. Probably regretting her decision-making, like I am.
I still don’t know what kind of class that was. I know Los Angeles is slightly different than other cities, but dry-humping in front of strangers while envisioning burying your seed . . . that’s a little much.
And because it was so weird, so off-base, I have no idea what to say to Lottie. Should I apologize? Should I ask her if she liked it? Should I sign us up for another class? Should I bring up Angela again?
“How is the soup?” Reign asks, coming in with a basket of biscuits.
“Delicious,” I say.