“Anyway.” Lavender flips over the paper menu, scanning it quickly. “He’s having the Caesar salad with extra chicken. And I’ll have the steak sandwich with caramelized onions.”
“Absolutely. Can I get you anything to drink?”
“A couple of flat whites, please. One with lactose-free milk. Dairy plays havoc with myhusband’sIBS.”
“What?” My answer seems more laughter than word.
“You know. Those terrible noises you make. And don’t get me started on the smell.”
“Right. Well. I’ll just bring you some water—” poor Lena adds, beginning to step backward.
“Honestly, Lena. Marriage takes all the mystery out of a relationship.”
“—for the table.” She turns, making her escape.
“That was payback,” Lavender says as the door to the café chimes closed.
“I don’t care if she thinks I get the shits from dairy.” Kicking my feet out under the table, I lean back and fold my arms across my chest.
“This is a prime example of why no woman wants a boyfriend hotter than them,” she says as though she isn’t listening. “Lena doesn’t care if you fart like a racehorse. She still wants you.”
“So women chase good-looking men, but they don’t want to date them?”
“Who’s been chasing you?” she snaps.
“You don’t need to worry. You don’t have a good-looking boyfriend. You have a good-looking husband.”
“What? Why are you looking at me all smug?”
I’m just enjoying your display of ownership.” I might not know what IBS feels like, but my insides feel like goo when she’s being jealous.
“Ownership? So you’re likening yourself to a dog now.”
“Woof. Women are complicated. Make him good looking but not too good looking. Tall but not too tall. Meanwhile, every man and his inner dog just wants a woman to claim him.”
“A woman with melons like Lena’s maybe?”
“If you don’t knock that off, I’m gonna take you back to your office and fuck you against those rice paper walls.”
“You think that’s a deterrent?”
“No, I think you’re deflecting because you don’t want to deal with how you feel about meeting your brother.”
“Don’t psychoanalyze me. Psycho,” she adds the playful insult for good measure.
“Is it me? Business is going well, so maybe you’re worried about us meeting?”
“How can that be true? I took you to my family home within forty-eight hours of meeting you.”
“Back then, you would’ve been happy if they’d turned on me. You tried pretty hard yourself.”
“I can’t help it if sometimes I want to wrap my hands around your neck. And sometimes your throat.”
“It’s okay, you know. I can take it. Take whatever you’re feeling right now.”
She blows out a breath like she’s finally giving in. “I’m sure Whit will be so glad to have me off his hands.”
“I doubt that’s true. I’m sure your brother just wants the best for you.”
