“Worse. Now please, let’s change the subject.”
Well, well, well. Douchebag McJerk had left more than a surface-level scar on her soul. I filed it into memory in case I died young and needed someone unbearable to haunt into insanity.
I dragged a hand over my mouth as I flicked the signal right to enter my tree-lined street. “Did I tell you I’m training for a half-marathon? Started last week.”
“Hmm.” She smiled, but she seemed a trillion miles away since I’d brought up her ex. “That’s exciting.”
I wasn’t sure what he’d done to her to make her like this, but I was glad I didn’t know his name or address. I’d be breaking my Hippocratic oath and sixty-nine other laws as I relieved this guy of his breathing duty.
“What else? My family is planning a big ancestors’ trip to Germany. My mother’s trying to rope me into that one.” I tapped my chin. “Oh, and I got offered a position at the Mayo Clinic.”
“Wait, the one you’ve been vying for?” Layla squeaked, covering her mouth. Leave it to this gem of a woman to light up because of someone else’s achievements. “The one in Minnesota? With the cutting-edge immunotherapy thingy? That you’ve been wanting to shift to full-scale with your patients?”
“Whoa, you do remember every single thing that comes out of my mouth. I’m almost tempted to hand you my credit card just for that.” I slid into a parking spot almost a full block from my brownstone and killed the engine, smirking.
“Shut up. That is amazing.” She swatted my chest, her face lighting up like a Christmas tree. “Congratulations.”
Layla unbuckled and quickly rounded the car. I got out, and she threw her arms at me in a tight, warm hug that felt like a recharge station. We stayed like this until my erection reminded her that my new position wasn’t the only thing I was excited about. My body might’ve been a little less hideously reactive if we didn’t meet up only once a month or so.
Layla slowly pulled away, beaming up at me. “I’m ready for my dinosaur nuggets now, handsome.”
I circled her waist, pulling her into me. “Only if you give the chef a kiss.”
Chapter Five
Grant
In my apartment, I threw the frozen chicken nuggets into the air fryer and cracked open two packs of ramen, then tossed them into steaming hot water. Layla set the coffee table, popped open a couple of Summer Shandies, then turned on Netflix. We’d been watchingVirgin Rivertogether.Slowly.We averaged two episodes a month. Partially because we didn’t get together more than once every four to five weeks. But mostly because the show had a major problem—it was boring as hell.
Neither of us was too invested, but it was something to do together. It felt pathetically good, knowing she’d never TV-cheat on me and continue without me. Even if she was probably screwing other people on the reg while not-watching it.
My phone pinged with a message.
Jessica: Hi! Just wanted to make sure your friend is okay. You looked a little distracted when you left the restaurant earlier x.
I brushed my knuckles along my stubble. I felt kind of bad, leaving her high and dry. Even though I’d been very clear with Jessica that I wasn’t looking for a relationship. In all truth, the only reason I’d gone on that date was because Chasehad pressured me to “put myself out there.” He said Layla was as emotionally available as an overly cooked Thanksgiving turkey, and I needed to remind myself that I was single.
Grant: She’s good. A little upset, so we are grabbing dinner together.
I put my phone down and poured the nuggets and ramen into two bowls. I also put some kimchi on top and sprinkled on some prechopped scallions. I tore two sachets of ketchup and squeezed them into her bowl. Then I stepped back and watched my handiwork.
Take that, Gordon Ramsay.
I tucked chopsticks into each to be fancy and padded back to the living room.
Layla was waiting on my couch, barefoot, readingGloss, a fashion magazine she was obsessed with and I always kept around.
“Dear Desiree again?” I put the bowls on the coffee table and sank into the sofa next to her. She smelled amazing. Like winter books and summer rain and fresh laundry. Her cleavage looked criminally delectable in that dress. I was in awe of myself for managing to hold on to a conversation thread with her and breathing simultaneously. Who said men weren’t good at multitasking? Look at me fucking go.
“That’s presumptuous. What if I’m reading about quantum electrodynamics?”
“You are?” I asked wryly. “Did you know scientists are now hunting for a never-seen-before tauonium? We’re closer than ever to—”
“Yeah, okay, I’m not fluent in nerd. You win.” She angled the magazine so I could see Desiree D’Arcy smirking back at me from her column. “What else am I going to read this magazine for? I sure can’t afford any of the high couturefashion. But Desiree? I read her every week. Never missed a column since I was fifteen.”
Desiree, by the picture on her page, was at least six times that age.
“What’s the fascination?”
