Page 18 of That Friendzone Feeling
“JustaskMax,” he says with a shrug, as if he wonders howIcouldn’t possibly have thought of that.
“Outof the question.Notmixing business and family.”
Sterlingpuffs out a long breath. “That’sa toughie,Walker.Oh, hello,Emily.”
Sheslides into the booth beside me.Herthigh presses against mine as she leans toward my phone, then immediately pulls back. “Hey,Sterling.”Sheturns to me. “Areyou asking him about an investor?”
“Yup.It’sthe only ideaIhave.”
Heslices off another chunkofFrenchtoast with the side of his fork. “Actually, you know what?”Hestabs the toast and points it at us. “Imight have an idea.”
“Really?”Emilyperks up. “Oh,God,Sterling.Thatwould be amazing.”
“Ican’t promise you anything,” he says. “SomethingIheard on thePRgrapevine.So, it might be a load ofBSfuelled by champagne and canapés.Imean, the last rumorIheard was that a certain fifty-something actress looks that goodreallyjust because of diet and exercise, so you know…”Hemakes a dramatic shrug. “Butleave it with me.Giveme a couple of days.”
6
EMILY
“O
h, hell.I’mso very not in the mood for this.”Ihold up my ringing phone, bearing the word “Mom”, towardWalkeras he dishes scrambled eggs onto two plates where toast is waiting for it.
“You’llnever be in the mood for it.Getit over with.Ripoff theBand-Aid.”Heputs down the pan and picks up the plates. “Bitethe bullet.Grabthe bull by the horns.Takethe—”
“Okay, okay.Iget it.Shutup.”
Buthe’s right.Ofcourse, he’s right.
Mystomach’s been in knots hoping my parents haven’t seen the news aboutMarcusSt.Clair.Iwas so proud to get him on board thatI’dtold them all about it in the hope they’d be impressed.Ofcourse, they weren’t.Sohopefully she doesn’t remember.
Itake a deep breath and pick up.
“Hi,Mom.SorryIhaven’t called since you got back.HowwasParis?”IfIcan distract her by talking about howfabulous my sister is, maybe there won’t be time to get into how much of a disappointmentIam. “Andthe president?”
Walkerrolls his eyes at me, moves around to my side of the kitchen island, and puts a plate down in front of each of us.
Wewear clothes for breakfast now.Inall the yearsWalkerandIhave stayed at each other’s places, we’ve always eaten breakfast in whatever we’d slept in—me in a giantT-shirt and underwear, him in shorts.
Butsince the first morning of this stay with him, whenIgot dressed beforeIcame into the kitchen and his nipple got fried with flying hot oil, we’ve both got fully clothed before emerging from our bedrooms.
It’ssince that kiss.Thatgoddamn delicious kiss.It’sruined everything.Madeus less comfortable with each other.Thisis why you don’t go around kissing your best friend or business partner.Orboth.
“Oh, darling,”Momsays. “Itwas fabulous.Spectacular.”It’snot possible for a human to gush with more joy. “Everythingyou’d dream it might be.”Ihave not dreamed of it for a single second. “Suchan intimate and exclusivesoirée.”AfterSara’sshows inEurope,Momalways comes back saying things in an affected accent. “Therecouldn’t have been more than about a hundred and fifty people there.”
Thisis clearly going to go on a while, soIput her on speaker and set her on the counter whileIdig into breakfast before it gets cold.
“Oh, great,”Walkerwhispers. “Inflictit on me too, why don’t you?”
Heshoves a forkful of toast and eggs between his plump pink lips.Jesus.Mustnot look at his lips.Notlikethat, anyway.
“Who’sthat?”Momasks. “IsitAnthony?Hewas so lovely.Ido hope you’ve sorted things out.Didyou sort things out?”
“It’sWalker,”Itell her.
“Oh,”Momsays, likeI’veburst her balloon.
Walkermouths,Thanks, at my phone.
