Page 89 of The Summer of Everything

Leo glares at him through his eyelashes. “What’re you wearing?”

Wes glances at himself. “Oh.” He forgot. “We had a photo shoot today.”

“Are you going into modeling now?”

“No,” he says, tugging at the collar of the dark denim jacket Ella wrangled him into three hours ago. “We were taking photos to hype our next promotion at the bookstore. It’s a mashup of speed dating and book club.”

Self-consciously, Wes presses the wrinkles out of the powder blue button-up he’s wearing under the jacket. Ella vainly attempted to have him stand in middle of Tongva Park shirtless, the jacket slung over one shoulder. Wes immediately vetoed that idea. Posing while holding a copy of his mom’s latest book was one thing. Wes drew the line at being someone’s social media thirst trap to sell the event. He’d never be able to scrub that metadata from the cloud.

Leo looks unimpressed.

“I’ve been keeping track of the bookstore’s revenue since we upgraded our promotions,” Wes says, folding his hands, mirroring Leo’s professional posture. “There’s been a ten-percent increase.”

Leo’s eyes narrow.

“Maybe like seven percent,” Wes amends.

“Uh huh.”

“But it’s a gain. We’re plus rather than minus,” Wes tacks on. “Our profit margin is still in the red, but we’re inching closer to black.”

He’s proud of himself. He didn’t have to glance at his notes app once for the lukewarm speech he typed out twenty minutes before arriving.

But Leo doesn’t pat Wes on the back. He doesn’t offer him a pound or a rapt nod. Leo returns to chewing on his pen cap while analyzing the paperwork laid out before him.

On the conference table, Leo’s phone sings.

Chime. Buzz. Chime. Buzz.

“You’re popular,” Wes comments.

“I’m on lunch duty,” Leo says impassively, peeking at the screen every time it lights up. The corners of his mouth twitch each time Leeann’s face appears.

“We’re going to check out possible reception venues next week,” Wes says quietly.

Leo’s head lifts; there’s something warm and soft in his eyes.

Wes slouches in his gray swivel chair. “She’s excited.”

“She is,” Leo says, choked. He clears his throat. There are shadows under his eyes. His chin and jaw are dark with unshaven hair. He’s paler than Wes last remembers, but the glow in his cheeks at the mention of Leeann is evidence that, under those layers of seriousness, a heart exists.

“Wes, I—”

“You boys look like you’re working hard,” Shelia announces, cutting off whatever Leo was about to say. His expression goes blank. He restacks the paperwork and sits straighter.

Shelia places a glass of water on a napkin in front of each of them. She’s wearing an all-gray pantsuit. Wes is convinced everyone in this office is an android.

“Thanks, Shelia,” Leo says, closing folders.

Wes nods. “Yeah. Thanks, Shelia.”

She lingers in the doorway. Her hair’s cut into one of those severe bobs. It’s a coppery shade, but gray roots are peeking through. She watches, maintaining a cut-and-paste smile despite the sharpness of her eyes. “Don’t work too hard,” she says more to Leo than Wes.

“While it’s nice that your profit margin is skyrocketing,” Leo says wryly after Shelia leaves, “I reviewed all the stuff you gave me and it looks like Mrs. Rossi is deep in debt. Filing an injunction would take more time than she has. Even then, it might not be enough.”

“But—”

Leo cuts Wes off. “And there’s a really good offer on the table.”

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