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“My face is very expressive.”

“Your face is smug.”

“Also true.”

I groan and bury my face in my hands.

“I cannot believe I just said that.”

Dani pats my knee.

“You're drunk.”

“I'm not drunk.”

Three women stare at me.

“I am moderately over-medicated.”

“You medicated yourself,” Annabeth points out.

“Technicality.”

Carolina reaches forward and lowers my hands.

“Okay. So, you love him.”

My eyes burn again.

“Unfortunately.”

“And he loves you.”

“You don't know that.”

“I've worked for that man.”

“So?”

“So I know him.”

I shake my head.

“No. I'm not doing that. I'm not sitting here interpreting whether a man loves me based on other people's observations. If Mitchell has something to say, Mitchell can say it.”

Carolina's smile is slow. I scowl. She taps the papers on the table.

“Finish the story, Layla. Don’t quit now.”

My gaze drops.

“I don't know if I can be objective anymore.”

“Are you a professional or not?.”

I look up.

“What?”