“He knows you’re onto him,” Luis says quietly.
“I’m sure he figured that out when I chucked him off Lena’s porch.”
“Be careful.” Luis’s dark eyes flare. “Your parents will never shut up if there’s a police report.”
“Then we’d better neutralize this asshole faster.” I pat his arm. “Take us home.”
As I slide in next to Lena, I feel a persistent set of eyes that make me whip my face toward the window.
Nancy, scowling, standing alone on the curb.
With her purse held too high against her chest, she locks eyes with me and extends her middle finger, flicking at the strap pointedly.
She’s like a dog with a bone. An obnoxious little ankle biter.
With Lena next to me and too much trouble in the air, I can’t even react to her jealous teeth mangling my life.
XIX
Cornered Dogs
(Lena)
There’s an unpleasant quiver in my belly as we arrive back at Brady’s penthouse.
I don’t know when we quietly agreed we’d spend every night together, but that’s become the norm shockingly fast.
Even more shocking, I never thought to question it until now.
Until he hid his phone and sent everything spiraling.
Worst of all, I feel sostupid.
We never agreed to anything.
Not one word about exclusivity.
I have no greedy claim to his body, his time, his secrets. I know that—Iknow, and it still doesn’t help.
Just like we both know this is a sham. A glorified production where we stumble into bed together at the end of a day.
Friends with benefits with mammoth responsibilities.
. . . Are we even friends?
Ugh.
The way my stomach flips intensifies as the private elevator opens, and we walk into his penthouse with a furry black cannonball who flies back at us the second she’s off the leash.
Queenie prances around like an overexcited deer, getting dog hair and drool all over Brady’s suit pants and then my dress.
I’m laughing, though.
He doesn’t seem to mind, either, rubbing behind her ears and stroking her sides as she leans against him.
I stare at him, wishing I could run from another happy moment and everything I’m afraid it could mean.
Call me a coward.
