Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 99434 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 497(@200wpm)___ 398(@250wpm)___ 331(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99434 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 497(@200wpm)___ 398(@250wpm)___ 331(@300wpm)
At least this week had been busy. I’d been at the office late every night because the work on my schedule before Grayson Westbrook stormed back into my life hadn’t been reassigned—other than one deposition.
“What are you going to do? Are you going to give him another chance?”
“I can’t. I’m over Gray. I’ve moved on.”
Quinn’s face screamed bullshit. “Let me ask you something.”
“What?”
“How long has it been since you’ve seen Oliver?”
“You mean since our last date?”
“No. I mean laid eyes on him. Was it today? Four days ago? How long?”
Hmm. Oliver and I worked in the same office, but we were lucky to catch one lunch and talk in the elevator for three minutes some weeks. “Well, yesterday I was out of the office all day for a deposition. So Thursday, I guess.” I paused. “Wait. No. He wasn’t in on Thursday—he had a conference to go to. It must’ve been Wednesday. Or maybe Tuesday. We had lunch at the Greek diner one of those days.”
Quinn refilled my glass of wine. “And what about Gray? When was the last time you saw him?”
“A week ago Thursday.”
“You’re sure?”
“I’m positive. Thursday morning about nine thirty to be exact. We landed at the airport. What the heck are you getting at?”
She set the bottle of wine on top of the bar and tapped the cork in. “You’re not over Gray. You’re still hung up on him.”
“What are you talking about?”
“When you know exactly how long it’s been since the last time you saw someone, you’re not over him.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“Does he have your cell phone number?”
“Yes. It’s on my business card. All my clients have it. But he’s never called me on it.”
A knowing grin spread on Quinn’s face. “Do you check it for missed calls or texts from him before you go to bed?”
I pursed my lips.
She reached over and took my hands. “It’s okay, sweetie. You’ll figure it out.”
Quinn moved down to the other end of the bar to help a customer. When she returned, she asked, “Does Oliver have dirty blond hair and look like a handsome prep school boy all grown up?”
“I guess so.”
She looked over my shoulder. “Then I think the man you are over is heading toward us.”
“Hey.” Oliver cupped my cheek for a tender but quick kiss.
Such a sweet guy. I turned back and introduced him to Quinn just as I noticed my phone vibrating with an incoming text on top of the bar. Catching the name flashing Gray, I quickly grabbed it and glanced back at Oliver to see if he’d also caught the name. He hadn’t.
But while he was smiling and paying attention to Quinn, a quick look at the smirk on her face told me she had. I dumped my cell into my purse and silently promised to ignore it during my date tonight.
The three of us made small talk while I finished my wine, and Oliver had a beer. After twenty minutes, he looked down at his watch.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize your friend worked here. I thought we were just meeting for a quick drink, so I made reservations for eight at Gramercy Tavern.”
My friend whistled. “Gramercy Tavern. Fancy. Go. You two have fun. I need to get back to work anyway.”
Oliver reached into his pocket and pulled out some cash to cover our drinks. Before he could place it on the bar, Quinn put up her hand.
“Layla doesn’t pay here, and neither does her guest.”
He smiled warmly. “Thank you.”
I leaned over the bar and kissed my friend on her cheek. “I’ll see you Thursday night for dinner, right?”
“Yep. It might be mac and cheese, unless Brian gets home from work early. But it’s a date. Your goddaughter has big plans to paint your nails. Which means most of your fingers will also be painted. So you might want to get a manicure appointment on the calendar for sometime Friday.”
I laughed. “Okay. Thanks for the warning.”
Oliver reached over the bar to shake Quinn’s hand. “It was nice to meet you.”
“Likewise.” While his hand was still in hers, she used her other to push up the arm of his sports jacket, exposing his forearm.
Oliver seemed rightly confused, but let her examine his arm anyway.
“Oh.” She shook her head. “Sorry. I thought I saw some ink peeking out. I was being nosy.”
Always the good sport, Oliver smiled. “Nope. No ink on me.”
When my date turned toward the door, I flashed scolding eyes at her. We both knew exactly what she’d been doing. But in case I hadn’t caught on, she touched her thumb and pointer together, forming a tiny circle, and mouthed, “Skinny forearms.”
***
The damn message was sucking away at my ability to concentrate. I imagined my cell would be hot if I plucked it from my purse. It was the proverbial heartbeat of my past under the floorboards that only I could hear. And at the same time, the fact that it distracted me also made me angry, which I needed to shake off. Because the more I let someone old take up residency in my heart, the more I felt like I had no room for someone new.