“Would you like to see how a normal person takes a compliment?”
“Sure.”
“Well, go on, then.” He raises his eyebrows in anticipation.
I take a step back, and I know I should be grateful to put some distance in between us, to move us back to solid ground after the shaky footing of the last minute, but I already miss the nearness of him. I run my fingers down his lapels and brush off imaginary dirt from each shoulder. “Lachlan Ramsay, you are really—and I mean, like,painfully—good…at holding that phone steady so I can see the video.”
“I hate you.”
“I know.” With one final flourish, I pull the bow tie taut, but my hands linger on his chest.
I know I have to get out of here, have to go meet Sadie and a whole barful of men—how awesome that I’m now superconfused and also super turned on. Just the perfect headspace for what’s to come. But I can’t move.
Lachlan breaks first, briefly glancing over at the wall to grab my scarf from its customary hook near the door. It’s a beautiful little green and blue number that Josh and Erica got me for my birthday last year, and the soft cotton feels lovely against my skin as Lachlan wraps the scarf around my neck once, twice, and holds the ends, not breaking eye contact. His expression is soft, almost sad, and he’s idly rubbing the fabric between his finger and thumb.
The whole night will collapse if I spend even five more seconds thinking about what’s happening here. Painful as it is, I move quickly, backing away from Lachlan. I grab my bag and coat and get into the elevator, leaving him standing in the living room, watching me go, feeling his eyes on me the whole way.
Chapter Twenty-Two
When I get to thebar, Sadie is finishing her first cocktail and has a second in front of her, as well as one for me. She kisses me on each cheek—which still feels so sophisticated—and leans back on her stool to admire me as I shed my coat and unwrap my scarf. “You clean up nice.”
I want to say “Really?” and point out all the flaws in my outfit: The fabric pulls tight against my stomach, the hemline is an inch shorter than it seemed in the store, the aforementioned pit stains are still blooming, and I’m sure my face remains bright red after my encounter with Lachlan. But then I think of what he would say if he were here, so I just take the compliment. “Thanks, Agrippina. We chose a good one. But I am nervous as hell.”
She pushes the cocktail toward me. “Drink up, then. And mind mine while I nip to the loo, yeah?”
She slips into the crowd and I sip my drink, relishing the mental calm that comes over me at the first taste of gin. I pull my phone out of my clutch to pass time until Sadie returns and see that Lachlan has messaged me. My heart skips a beat, whether from anxiety or excitement, I can’t tell.
If you’re not going to let me wingman you, you have to text me updates. I’m dying over here
I smile, as if he could see it, and type back:
Shouldn’t you be focused on kissing babies and glad-handing charity types?
It’s just a bunch of middle age ladies drinking sherry and getting handsy
So you can finally fulfill your potential and become a gigolo?
Can’t have you be the only one in the house getting laid
This makes me laugh and blush in equal measures.
What would you do if you were here to wing me?
probably just spend the night rabbiting at you
…what is rabbiting? Is that a sex thing?
His only response is the laugh-cry emoji three times.
I’m serious! You can’t drop slang like that and leave me out here defenseless.
It just means chatting. Babbling on and on. Rabbiting
thank god
But if it WERE a sex thing, what would it be? Lots of hopping? Much gymnastics?
I laugh at his question, then bite my lip as I respond:
