Lottie glances in my direction, so I take that moment to lift her hand that’s holding the ice cream, bring it to my mouth, and take a bite from it before winking at her. “Hiding me from your friends again, babe? What did I tell you? Stop keeping me a secret.”
“Wait,” Angela says, her mind whirling. “Are you serious? You two are dating?” She motions her manicured finger between us.
Lottie nods. Keeping her eyes on me, she says, “Yes, we’re dating.”
“Babe, we’re more than dating.” I take the ice cream from her and then lift her hand, showing off her massive engagement ring. I give it a kiss and say, “We’re getting married.”
“What?” Angela nearly shrieks. “Since when? You never said anything to me, Lottie.”
I turn toward Angela and, with a smile on my face, I say, “We’ve been busy. Isn’t that right, babe?” I lean over and kiss the side of her neck.
Lottie’s grip on my leg tightens as she says, “Yeah, very busy. But, yeah, we’re engaged.”
“I see, well . . . can’t say that I’m not hurt you didn’t tell me.”
Wow, she has some fucking nerve.
“That’s what happens when you sever ties with your best friend, Angela. They take that as a sign to move on.” Lottie smiles at me and offers me the ice cream again so I can take another mouthful. “I’ve moved on.”
Angela steps back, hand to her chest. “Lottie, you’re being so cruel. And here I was, coming over to see if you wanted to have lunch with me sometime.” Oh, what a load of bullshit. “We really miss you at the company. Maybe we can figure something out. Especially now that you’re dating Huxley Cane, we could partner up.”
From the corner of my eye, I see Lottie’s jaw clench. Her anger’s spiking, and I’m seeing another side of her. Sure, I’ve made her angry, but those conversations we’ve had almost seem superficial now, compared to this. This is true anger. This is from the pit of her stomach.
And I can see her wanting to jump down Angela’s throat, which will do nothing for Lottie, so I stop it before it can happen. “We’re actually late for a meeting, babe.” I slip my arm off her shoulder and instead take her hand. “I’m sure Angela doesn’t mind catching up with you some other time.” I give Angela a look.
“Oh, of course not,” she says easily. “Don’t let me keep you. But I’d love to chat at some point, Lottie. I miss you. And you know how busy I am. Give the reunion some thought. It needs a nice Lottie touch to it.” She twiddles her fingers at Lottie and then heads into the ice cream shop.
Lottie stays silent as she sits there, holding the ice cream, but not saying a thing. Not even moving.
Unsure of what to do, I say, “So, that’s Angela?”
Lottie stands and hands me the ice cream. “Can we leave now?”
“Yeah, if that’s what you want.”
“It is,” she says, and for the first time since I’ve known her, I take her hand in mine not because I’m putting on a show, but because I think she needs it.
The clanging of spoons in our soup bowls is the only sound in the dining room. The silence is so deafening that if someone walked in, they’d think they were walking in on a funeral.
A funeral for my self-respect.
Lottie hasn’t really said anything to me since we left the ice cream shop. She doesn’t seem mad, more . . . contemplative. Probably regretting her decision-making, like I am.
I still don’t know what kind of class that was. I know Los Angeles is slightly different than other cities, but dry-humping in front of strangers while envisioning burying your seed . . . that’s a little much.
And because it was so weird, so off-base, I have no idea what to say to Lottie. Should I apologize? Should I ask her if she liked it? Should I sign us up for another class? Should I bring up Angela again?
“How is the soup?” Reign asks, coming in with a basket of biscuits.
“Delicious,” I say.
“Really good,” Lottie adds. “Are those homemade biscuits?”
“Yes,” Reign says. “Chive and cheddar.”
“Don’t mind if I do,” Lottie says as she plucks one from the basket, smiling. Okay. She’s in better spirits than when we left the ice cream store.
So, I decide to test my luck with her.
“Do you want to talk about what happened with Angela?”
Her eyes flash to mine. “No.”
“Because it seemed like—”
“I said no, Huxley,” she snaps at me.
Okay, noted. Doesn’t like talking about Angela. Got it. I try a different approach.
“Dave told me Ellie was hoping you’d go shopping with her sometime. For baby items.”
She doesn’t look at me, not even a small glance. “She said she wanted to get fitted for breast pumps.”
“Oh.” Shit, that doesn’t sound like fun. I have no idea what that entails but I can already sense it wouldn’t be something Lottie’s interested in. “Did she say when?”
“Sometime next week.” She breaks off a piece of her biscuit and plops it in her mouth.
“Are you going to go?”
“Do I really have a choice? After what happened this afternoon, I’m pretty sure we’re bonded to Ellie and Dave for life.” She adds another piece of biscuit to her mouth. “When we were putting away the yoga mats, Ellie told me she had an orgasm while Dave was pulsing into her.” Casually she dabs her mouth. “Do you understand the kind of damage that does to a person? Knowing someone only a few feet away had an O while their fiancé dry-humped them in a pregnancy class?” Her eyes finally meet mine. “I’m not doing well, Huxley.”
“Well, you’re in good company, because I’ll never be able to look at Dave the same, after he proudly stood with his boner for everyone to see.”
“I’m surprised you didn’t join him.” She scoops up more of her soup and sips on it. “You know, since you seem to like to be the best at everything. It would’ve been fun seeing who packed more heat.”
“What happened today was completely unprofessional and I have no intentions of repeating it.”
“I knew it.” She shakes her head.
“Knew what?” I ask.
“That a pole was being shoved farther and farther up your ass while we were there.”
“Are you telling me you’d enjoy going to another one of those classes?”
“Absolutely not, but chalk it up to a life experience. You don’t have to be so stiff all the time, no pun intended.”
“I’m not stiff all the time,” I say. “I just don’t enjoy getting dry-humped in front of a business associate, only to see said business associate’s erection after.”
“He didn’t get excited over you dry-humping.”
I pinch the brow of my nose. “I know that. I was just adding it on to the ‘experience’ of the day,” I say, using air quotes. “You yourself said you weren’t doing well. So why are you chastising me?”
“I’m not chastising you,” she shoots back and then takes a deep breath while leaning back in her chair. “You know, I don’t think this is working out.”
“Excuse me?” I say, panic in my voice.
“This.” She motions between us. “We can’t seem to get on the same wavelength, and frankly, I’m tired of fighting with you all the time.”
“You think I enjoy fighting with you?”
“I think you take pleasure in making me angry. That much is true from last night.”
“I take pleasure in other things,” I say, raising a brow, because I really fucking enjoyed having my fingers inside of her.
She rolls her eyes and sets her hands on the table. “I think this eating dinner together thing is too much. We’re forcing something we shouldn’t be forcing.”
I lean in and speak quietly when I say, “We’re not forcing anything. We’re putting on a goddamn show.” Keeping my voice at a whisper, I continue, “Dinners aren’t about spending time with you, they’re about keeping the illusion alive.”
“You really think Reign might say something? Like that we’re not eating dinner together? He seems like a nice, trustworthy guy. He hasn’t poisoned you yet, unfortunately.”
Cute.