Page 100 of Sugar

“Ah, yes, the commonly known first grade professor.”

“Professor sounded better thanMr.Dreamboat.”

“True.” I hesitated for a moment before pointing out the hole in his excuse. “Did my dad fail to mention that Exquisite Aesthetic is now open on Saturday nights?”

Thankfully, there was a valid reason that didn’t involve him cheating—and me needing to saw his junk off with a rusty grapefruit spoon. “He still works for my dad, but he’s also been working part-time as a personal assistant to some celebrity. He can’t tell me who because of an NDA, but he said they’re demanding. He’s hoping it opens some acting gigs.”

I’m not the only one signing NDAs…

My filter worked enough to keep that to myself. “I didn’t know he wanted to be an actor.”

“Neither did I. And neither did he until Gloria brought it up. My guess is that she realized she can’t ignore the fact she has an adult son anymore, so she’s trying to profit off him instead.”

My hazy brain reminded me of what Wren had told us about Chris’ dad being some studio something or another. “And I take it you didn’t tell him about Chris’ family connection?”

“I did not. If he didn’t want to be here for me…” She shrugged, but it didn’t hide the flash of pain. “Anyway, enough about him. Have I mentioned this dress looks amazing on you? The white with your tan is chef’s kiss. I love it.”

You and Easton both.

I should tell him I’m wearing it.

No.

I shouldshowhim.

Since I was no longer attending the engagement party, it freed me up to wear the requested dress without risking a major social faux pas. I wasn’t even sure why I wore it. The connection to him or whatever.

The idea to send him a picture was just the genius opening I’d been looking for. I could message without feeling like I was interrupting his night.

I bolted up from my stool just as Wren and Chris returned with more drinks.

“Do we smell or something?” she asked as she took in me and then the other abandoned stool.

“Bathroom,” I said.

“And I don’t want to talk about it,” Greer muttered.

Chris looked down at the shitty beer he held that was supposed to go to Josh.

Greer offered an apologetic smile. “I’ll pay for that.”

I didn’t catch his response as I weaved through the crowd, wobbling on my trembling legs. The line for the bathroom was too long for my impatience, so I bypassed it in favor of an empty spot near the unused side exit. The lack of any mirror made it harder to get a good picture—as did the crappy lighting—but I did the best I could. I didn’t have time to try a dozen positions, so I hoped my eyes hadn’t teamed up with the vodka to lie to me and that I actually did look good.

I sent it and typed another message.

Me: Thank you again for understanding. I still wore the white dress like you said. I hope you’re having a fun time at the party.

Me: And obviously no rush to respond. I was just thinking about you.

I probably should’ve deleted that last part, but I didn’t. I sent it.

There. That was fine.

Played it as cool as a Carolina Reaper pepper.

His response came before I even started back to the table.

Easton: I’m always thinking about you.

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