My phone rings, and I know before looking who it is. We were both too preoccupied to check our phones last night and running late this morning because shower sex is awesome, so he was probably greeted at the office the same way I was.
“Hi. Did you see?”
“Sweetheart. I’m so sorry.”
Aw. He sounds worried, and I hate it. “Not your fault—I kissed you, remember? I’m just pissed about the way they made it seem like we’re being sleazy. When the press releases go out about our collabs, people are going to remember this.” Is this going to impact our business? I glance over at Calla. She’s the one who handles PR and marketing.
She shakes her head and gives me a reassuring smile.
“People would probably say shit anyway when they found out we’re together. I’ve told the clients who would be affected, and nobody who matters is going to care. You know how incestuous this industry can be. Everyone’s dating everyone else, and most of them are married to other people already.”
That’s true. “So it’s not going to impact your work?”
“No way. Damian laughed and congratulated me on getting the company’s name in print. This kind of publicity is good.”
Calla, who’s standing close enough to hear him because she has no concept of personal space, nods emphatically. Then she says, “We might post a photo of you two on your socials with a caption about how you’re official now or something. Make it clear you’re not sneaking around and get people on your side. People love love, and you’re cute together.”
Griff must hear that, because he says, “Yeah, that’s a good idea. What about the selfie I took of us at the dog park?”
That’s another great photo of us leaning against each other and Vivi snuggled up in my arms. “Okay, that’s a plan. Calla will come up with the caption and send it over for you to approve and post.” My anxiety starts to settle, but I still smile gratefully at Kyle when he hands me a mug of fragrant tea. I’ve managed to stay verbal, but depending on what the rest of the day brings, that might not last.
“We’re good?” Griff asks. “Do you want me to come there?”
Calla’s hands come up to clasp in front of her chest, and she gives me a swoony face. I’m pretty sure I have heart eyes right now, so I can’t even be mad. “We’re good, babe. I’m okay.”
He heaves a relieved sigh. “Good. I’ll wait for Calla’s text, but call me if you need anything. See you later?”
“Definitely. Dog park tonight for trivia, remember?” I’m weirdly excited about it. “Hey, Griff?”
“Yeah, sweetheart?”
“How fucking hot do we look in that photo?”
Calla bursts out laughing so hard, I think she might sprain a rib. Heidi and Kyle smother their chuckles, but Dee stares at me with her mouth open.
“We’re smokin’, sweetheart.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
GRIFF
“You’re doing it wrong,”Harold declares.
“Oh my god, you havegotto be kidding. How am I doing it wrong? It’s cheese and dip, Harold, and I’m putting it in a bag. There’s only one way to do it!”
“True, but you’re not doing that. Here, let me?—”
“I swear to all the divas who lived before me, if you lay one finger on this bag, I’m going to cut it off and serve it with the cheese!”
I lean closer to Phil where we’re sitting on the couch, watching the show Calla and Harold are putting on in the kitchen. “Are they always like this?” I whisper.
He nods. “Mostly. Calla likes to get things done. Harold thinks everything should be done aesthetically. It’s fun to watch.”
“It really is. I’m glad we stayed here last night.” My neighbor, Bettina, had a nasty fall earlier in the week (which makes me feel bad for being grumpy with her) and is banged up and feeling sorry for herself. She pitifully requested Vivi sleep over with her and Oscar, her dog, last night, and while I really wanted to say no—I’ve never been separated from my baby before—I agreed. Vivi loves her, and it’s a good deed.
But then I was so antsy, pacing the kitchen and trying to get a look in Bettina’s windows to make sure Vivi was okay, that Phil insisted we come here and get some distance. He was just as surprised as I was to find that Harold had already driven up from San Diego and was planning to crash on the couch, since apparently the guest room at their friends’ house is occupied.
“Even though Harold critiqued our ‘sexual performance soundtrack’ over breakfast?” Phil teases, and I shake my head. That wasn’t something I was prepared for on a Saturday morning before I’d even called to check on Vivi. For a split second, I’d wondered if Phil would get mad about me murdering his friend, but then my sense of humor kicked in and I laughed instead.
