Page 57 of The Lovers
“Potential vegan catastrophe. We’re supposed to have vegan empanadas for the rehearsal dinner cocktail hour”—she smiles—“during which I’m told you will be offering readings.”
“Oui, oui,” I quip.
“And all of them are beef and potato.”
“Sounds perfect.”
“Sounds like my head on a platter.”
“I don’t see how that would remedy the lack of a vegan dish.”
Her laugh is a burst of joy that brightens her features. She grabs me by the waistband and tugs me into her. Her eyes fill with worry. “You’re not gonna bolt, are you?”
I let my forehead rest against hers.
“You can’t get rid of me that easily,” I say, smirking. “Not this time.”
She kisses me once more before we break apart. “I’ll come find you when this is sorted.”
“Can’t wait,” I reply.
And I really, really can’t.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Julia
Focus is a fight when all I want is to lose myself in Kit.
I round the corner toward the restaurant and almost barrel bodily into Coco. She’s talking on the phone, dressed in her brunch wear, and chewing on the earpiece of her sunglasses idly.
She smiles, holds up her finger in the universalwaitgesture.
“We’re not going to rush the process,” she says into the phone. The person on the other end of the line must not agree, because I hear a garbled, but adamant-sounding, response. Coco shushes it. “It’s the weekend, babe, just let it sit for two days. She’s going to sign on, I can feel it.” She hangs up.
“Aren’t you all still supposed to be brunching?” I ask as soon as the call has ended.
“I had a meeting with a very important celeb collab for Coco’s Intimates, couldn’t reschedule.” She waves the phone. “And then a call with one of my employees right after because it didn’t go as planned.”
“Oh, gotcha,” I say. “You motioned for me to hold on, so I assumed you needed help with something.”
She nods, twirling her phone. “You have lip gloss smudged on your neck and collar.” She points her long red nail to the up-turned, and now sullied, collar of my shirt. Fuck, I left my emergency bag at Homebase. I never do that.
I can’t believe I did that.
She flicks her eyes behind me. “And there goes the tarot reader coming out of Homebase.” She waggles her brow. “Mission Sexy Times,success.”
My blush is immediate. “Oh my God, please stop.” I wet the tips of my fingers, trying to wipe away Kit’s lip gloss. To no avail. “Not Sexy Times.”
“Evidence proves otherwise.” She smirks.
I give up my futile wiping. The stain is staying.
I launch out. She follows.
“I don’t have time for this,” I say, speed-walking. “I’m in crisis maintenance mode.”
“Always,” she says, keeping my pace easily.
