“In here.”
His shadow darkened the doorway. “Any word from your dad?”
I glanced at him. “Not yet. I sent him a text and didn’t get a reply.”
“So he’s still on the plane.”
“Or he missed a connection. Who knows?” I scowled at my clothes.
“Here.” He came in and stepped around me, pulling a pair of gray linen palazzo pants off the bottom rack and a black lace cap-sleeved shirt.
“Thank you.” And because he was close, I hugged him.
His returning hug was so tight it squeezed the air out of me. Startled by his exuberance, I held him for a long while, my cheek over his heart. For the first time in a few days, he was dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, and as usual, he managed to look striking and expensive.
“Everything okay?” I asked him.
“I miss you, baby girl,” he murmured into my hair.
“Just trying to make sure you don’t get sick of me.” I tried to sound like I was teasing, but his tone niggled at me. It lacked all the vivacity I was so used to hearing in it. “I’m taking a cab to work, so I’ve got some time. Why don’t we have a cup of coffee?”
“Yeah.” He pulled back and smiled at me, looking boyishly beautiful.
Taking my hand, he led me out of the closet. I tossed my clothes on an armchair before we headed out to the kitchen.
“Are you going out?” I asked.
“I’ve got a shoot today.”
“Well, that’s good news!” I headed to the coffeemaker while he went to pull half-and-half out of the fridge. “Sounds like another occasion to dig into the case of Cristal.”
“No way,” he scoffed. “Not with everything that’s going on with your dad.”
“What else are we going to do? Sit around staring at each other? There’s nothing more that can be done. Nathan is dead and even if he weren’t, what he did to me is long over.” I pushed a steaming mug over to him and filled another. “I’m ready to shove his memory in a cold, dark hole and forget about him.”
“Over for you.” He lightened my coffee and slid it back. “It’s still news to your dad. He’ll want to talk about it.”
“I am not talking about it with my dad. I’m not talking about it ever.”
“He might not go along with that.”
I turned and faced him, leaning back into the counter with my mug cradled between my hands. “All he needs is to see me doing okay. This isn’t about him. It’s about me, and I’m surviving. Pretty well, I think.”
He stirred his coffee, a thoughtful look on his face.
“Yeah, you are,” he said after a few seconds. “Are you going to tell him about your mystery man?”
“He’s not a mystery. I just can’t talk about him, and that has nothing to do with our friendship. I trust you and love you and rely on you like always.”
His green eyes challenged me over the rim of his mug. “Doesn’t seem like it.”
“You’re my best friend. When I’m old and gray, you’ll still be my best friend. Not talking about the guy I’m seeing isn’t going to change that.”
“How am I not supposed to feel like you don’t trust me? What’s the big deal with this guy that you can’t even give me a name or anything?”
I sighed and told him a partial truth. “I don’t know his name.”
Cary stilled, staring. “You’re shitting me.”
“I never asked him what it is.” As evasive answers went, it begged to be challenged. Cary gave me a long look.
“And I’m not supposed to be worried?”
“Nope. I’m comfortable with the whole thing. We’re both getting what we need and he cares about me.”
He studied me. “What do you call him when you’re coming? You’ve got to be shouting something if he’s any good at it. Which I assume he is, since you obviously aren’t getting to know each other by talking.”
“Uh …” That tripped me up. “I think I just say, ‘Oh, God!’ ”
Throwing his head back, he laughed.