Page 99 of Love Arranged
“Out of place?” Manny intervenes.
Jane makes a face, and Lorenzo notices it immediately.
“You agree?” he asks her.
Jane lifts her shoulders. “I mean, I’m not from here, so who am I to comment?”
“You’re the most unbiased person here, so that’s good enough,” Lorenzo replies.
“Well, I mean, I think mixing it up every now and then would make you seem a little more approachable.”
“What about this says approachable?” Lorenzo motions to his shirt.
“I think you look like you don’t take yourself too seriously,” she says.
“Ah, yes. A trait everyone wants to see in the person running for mayor.”
I jump in. “People here only wear suits for weddings and funerals.”
“But the Ludlows?—”
Manny interrupts, “Are known to be a bit…”
“Uptight?” I offer. Snooty. Condescending. Born with aholier than thoupretentiousness that I once mistook as confidence.
Manny nods. “Exactly.”
Lorenzo’s petulant frown makes me laugh.
“I’mnotuptight.” His voice is riddled with tension.
“You’re a billionaire, man?—”
“Was. Iwasa billionaire.” Lorenzo’s body is getting progressively stiffer, so I decide to help him in the best way I know how.
“You know,” I say, “we can go shopping this weekend and see what we find.”
Manny hoots. “Yes! My mom knows?—”
“No,” Lorenzo and I both say at the same time, making Manny and Jane laugh.
We look over at each other, our eyes both wide.
Manny places his elbows on the table, clasps his hands underneath his chin, and bats his thick lashes. “Look at them finishing each other’s sentences. Isn’t that cute?”
Nope, I lie to myself.Not even a little bit.
I stare longingly at the crowd on the dance floor. Manny and Jane were swallowed up by the large group of people two songs ago, and I haven’t seen them since.
Lorenzo surprises me by asking, “Do you want to dance?”
I arch a brow at him. “Together?”
“No, I was thinking you should go ask the guys who keep staring at you from across the bar.”
I lean into him so I can get a better look at the men he pointed out. It doesn’t take me long to notice the group hanging around the end of the bar, who quickly look away from our table.
I can’t help myself when I ask, “Does it bother you?”
