Page 98 of David

“She’s worried. She’s your mother. You have no idea how hard it is to be a mom.”

Her words touch me, as I’m sure it’s hard for her too.

“I’m happy for you—I really am,” I say. You have one of the best love stories I’ve ever heard—you and Rain and Dahlia.”

“And Eve,” she says, and we share a smile.

“Yes. And Eve.”

My eyes almost tear up.

Luckily, she speaks.

“Thank you. I have nothing to do with it,” she says softly, and I’d like to argue with her, yet her expression changes as she goes on. “All right…” she utters in a different voice. “Get dressed. Do what you need to do. I can’t wait to see you.”

Moments later, we end the call, and I get out of bed, tap Chloe’s name on my phone, and head to the kitchen.

Chloe doesn’t answer, so I record a voice message for her.

“Hey, it’s me. I hope you’re okay after last night. I need you to come with me to Rain Sexton’s residence for food, drinks, and some chatting with the girls. Yes. That Rain. Please don’t say no, or I’ll never talk to you again,” I say, laughing.

I’m about to end the recording when a car engine rumbles outside, and a door gets slammed.

A few steps later, I stop next to the window, my finger still glued to the screen as I glance outside.

Wearing the outfit she had on last night, which is never good news, Chloe zips away from a sports car.

I can’t see the driver, but I hear him calling her name.

She doesn’t turn around.

“Oh, great. That’s exactly what I needed. More drama in my life.”

A moment later, she starts pounding on my door.

15

LIZ

“Was that him?” I ask while she enters my place with a dark expression on her face. “Mr. I–forgot–to–mention–my–ex?”

Dragging my sheet across the floor, I turn my back to her and move to the coffeemaker to evade her eyes.

It’s better to talk about her wearing the same clothes today than me being naked under this sheet.

Chloe knows I never sleep naked.

But she can’t focus on me, I learn, glancing over my shoulder.

With her eyebrows pulled together, dark circles around her eyes, and makeup gone, she looks like a ghost as she pulls the chair back and falls into her seat.

“I figured it was him,” I say, setting the machine for a fresh cup of coffee.

I’m not only drinking tea.

“Do you want a cup of coffee?” I ask, pivoting to get a glimpse of her.

Her arms are folded on the table, her head propped against them.

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