Alexander nods toward the side of the counter where the trash bin and condiments are set out and I follow him over.
“Thank God, that’s over,” he says, his smile disappearing once his face is hidden from everyone’s view.
“Thank you,” I say, wanting to hug him, to squeeze his hand, but settling for grabbing his arm instead. I shouldn’t show any affection in such a public setting.
“For what?” His nose crinkles.
“For sticking it out. For not walking out when you found out about the article. For helping me out.”
I think of all the small actions he’s taken over the past couple of days. Biting his tongue, plastering on a smile—all for the sake of keeping this campaign alive—has warmed my heart and helped build back my trust with him.
Connie and Paul start walking toward us, and Alexander waves them away.
“Guys, I need a minute.”
He nods for me to continue once they’re out of range, and grabs a sugar sachet out of the display next to us.
“This could have all gone tits up, but you stuck it out, despite the PR situation.”
“I’ve already almost caused you to lose your job once.” He shoves the packet into the chest pocket of my black-and-yellowflannel shirt. “I couldn’t be responsible that happening again now.” He pats my chest with his hand.
“What’s with the sugar?” I scrunch my face up as I go to retrieve it.
Alexander stops me as I reach into the pocket, pulling my hand away.
“Now I get to call you sugar tits,” he chuckles. “So, our date on Tuesday…”
The cheek. Well, two can play that game.
“Yes.” I pause and grab the marker on the side, pull out another sugar sachet, and start writing on it.
“Do you want me to pick you up or meet you somewhere?” he asks.
“Why don’t you pick me up.”
I hand him the packet and bite my lip to stop myself from laughing.
“Daddy?” Alexander frowns as he tries to make out my writing.
“And now I can call you Sugar Daddy.” My teeth lift from my lip and I let out a laugh.
“You think I’m your sugar daddy?”
He throws the sachet back at me, his mouth wide open. Alexander’s playful side ramps up a gear, much to my beating heart’s delight.
“What? I’ve been out here in LA looking for a sugar daddy for three years now and all I keep finding are sugar-free daddies. You think I’m not gonna lay my claim once I’ve found him?” I toss the sachet in his direction again, and hear a cough as Paul and Connie walk back toward us.
“If anything, you’re the daddy,” Alexander mutters under his breath. “Enjoy your night with Andrew.” He leans in for a bro-hug, patting me hard on the back. I know better than to do anything but reciprocate with everyone looking at us.
“Great working with you,” I say.
I release myself, turn, and say my goodbyes to everyone else before heading to the door.
The goodbye feels different this time, knowing I’ll see him again in two days.
The sound of Chappell Roan’sGood Luck Babegreets me as I open the front door to my apartment. I fling my keys and phone in the bowl underneath the mirror in the entryway, then pull my suitcase in and drag it down the stars to my bedroom. It’s too heavy to lift.
“Sorry I’m late. I got held up at the Grove,” I shout over the music coming from behind Andrew’s closed door. I pull the monogrammed Louis Vuitton wallet that I’d picked up for him in New York out from my backpack. It is the same one Andrew had eyed when we went window shopping a few weeks back on Rodeo Drive.
