Page 129 of By A Thread
“You’d miss me. Like a lot.” I knew she would. At this point, I couldn’t imagine not seeing her five days a week. At this point, five days a week wasn’t enough.
“Did you pay Greta to leave for two months?” she asked.
Those warning bells were clanging loud and clear in my head. But I was too drunk to pay attention. “Yep. She deserved it after all those years of putting up with me.”
“So you sent your admin away to give me the job?”
Danger, Dominic Dumbass. Danger.
“Uh-huh.”
“Was it because I needed money or because you wanted to pull my strings?”
“Pfft. You don’t have strings. You’re a person, not a Pin… pinochle puppet. You were so tired. And scared. And I have money. But you wouldn’t take it. So I made you take it.”
“I want to be so mad at you right now,” she said.
“Let’s go home. You can be mad at me at home. Brownie’s there, and he loves me,” I sighed, grabbing a fistful of French fries and shoving them into my mouth.
She looked at me and shook her head.
“Wha?” I asked, and a French fry fell out of my mouth into my lap.
“Nothing.”
“Hey, do you see all this glitter in here?” I asked.
“Shut. Up. Dom.”
She sounded serious, so I kept quiet. I drank my entire milkshake and ate fries—all of mine and accidentally half of hers—until she turned onto my street.
She found a space at the end of the block, and I climbed—or, more accurately, fell—out of the SUV. Ally, carrying the rest of our food and her milkshake, hurried around and picked me up.
She started laughing and then couldn’t seem to stop.
“What?” I asked.
She shook her head. “I can’t handle how cute you are right now.”
“Cute? Me?” I frowned. “That’s not right. I am very sexy and handsome all of the time.”
She guided me up the steps to the front door. “You sure are. And right now, you’re super cute. I think it’s because you’re still wearing my coat.”
“Can I keep it?” I asked.
“No. It’s winter. I need it.”
“We could just swa-swa-swapsies. No one would have to know. You could wear my coat, and I could wear your coat, and it’ll be a secret. We could pinky promise again.”
“I think someone might notice you wearing a wool women’s trench backwards.”
“You think?” I was disappointed.
“Dom, did someone put something in your drink tonight? Did Malina show up in disguise with a pocket full of roofies? Keys, please.”
I dug through both of Ally’s coat pockets and then my own pants before producing the keyring. “Found them,” I sang. But no one gave me a dollar this time.
“Good job, Charming,” she said, taking the keys from me. I leaned heavily against her while she opened the door.
