Best. Day. Ever.
“My dad said it’s fine.”
I shake my head.Little shit.
“Really? So if I text him right now, he’s going to say it’s fine?”
He glances sideways. “Well, you don’t need to. I already asked him.”
Jordan’s grin widens on the screen as she crosses her arms, clearly enjoying this. She knows he’s full of shit too.
“You really gonna lie to me, buddy? Come on. I’m gonna find out anyway. Might as well just tell the truth. Pick another movie, and we’ll go.”
He sighs, defeated. “Fine. I’ll pick another movie.” Then he leans closer to the camera, eyes shifting to Jordan. “Can Jordan come?”
I stab my fork into a piece of chicken and turn my head toward her as I take a bite.
She leans forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “Ah, I wish I could. But I’ll be here in New York.”
“Well, just come to Chicago with Matt.”
“Yeah, just come to Chicago with me,” I echo, like it’s nothing.
She laughs. “It’s not that easy, buddy.”
“Can’t you just fly with Matt on his plane?” he asks.
I lift a hand and wave it, grinning. “You can just flyon my plane.”
She purses her lips together and scowls. It’s impressive, really—how she looks like she might murder me and bust up laughing at the same time.
“I wish I could,” she says. “But I have to work.”
“Why can’t you just quit? Matt’s rich. I bet he’d give you money.”
I chuckle, sitting back and folding my arms, loving every second of this.
She laughs. “Hmm. That’s a good point.” Then she turns to me. “Why don’t you just give me money so I can quit my job and come with you?”
Shit.She outsmarted us both.
I shrug, meeting her gaze. “You can quit, babe. I’ll give you money.”
Her eyes go wide, and she smacks my arm before turning back to Cole, laughing. “As nice as that would be, I actually love my job. But how about next time you’re here, we all hang out?”
“Okay, cool,” he says, like it’s no big deal.
“Alright, buddy. I’ve gotta get back to work. Why don’t you pick a new movie, and I’ll let your dad know the plan.”
“Okay. Bye!”
He ends the FaceTime before we can even both say goodbye.
I take a bite of my food and say casually, “So, should I write the check out to cash or…?”
Her laughter’s interrupted by a knock on the door.
“Mr. Grayson?” Harper’s voice carries from the other side, coated in sugar.
