Page 54 of Bidding War

“Why not?”

“Let’s be clear, Andre. You kidnapped me. You’re the longstanding enemy of the family I am marrying into. It is complicated. Surely, you see that.”

He mulls it over. “I suppose so. I’d like an answer within one week.”

“Agreed. If I said yes, where would I work?”

He smiles. “Wherever I need you.”

A charming non-answer if ever there was one. I want to press him for more information, but I feel like I’ve come here and gotten no answers at all. Pushing Andre is a recipe for disappointment and possibly danger, so it’s just not worth it right now.

“Very well.” I set my glass down. “You’ll have my answer within a week. Does Riley work where I’ll be working? Because that was the second-best Tom Collins I’ve ever had.”

“Second best?” the young man sounds offended.

But I smile at him. “The best I’ve ever had was made by me.”

Andre laughs. “I do believe she’s calling you out, Riley.”

Riley laughs, too. “I’d be happy to learn from a master.”

“We’ll see, I guess.”

Andre walks me to the elevator. “I do hope to hear from you sooner rather than later, June. We have much business to attend to.”

“Time will tell.” If he can give non-answers, so can I. The elevator takes me away, and I’m not shaking. I feel steadier than I have since what happened with Neil. Whatever happens, I’ve got this.

30

JUNE

Carla’s Diner is a little out of the way place near the bar, making it the perfect place to meet Anderson after my shift. It looks like an old-fashioned diner—bright red vinyl seats, chrome on everything, and a jukebox in the corner—but the place is too new for any of it to be vintage. The checkerboard floors make me nostalgic for a time I never experienced, and I’m not sure why. But there’s something wholesome about the facade.

In short, it's the perfect place to disappoint him.

We sit in the booth furthest from the door, to avoid the cold draft every time someone walks in, and peruse the menus. Nervously, I tell him, “Thanks for agreeing to a late-night date. Sorry I couldn’t get out of my shift any earlier.”

He smiles. “Of course. I’m happy to see you whenever I can.”

After ordering—me, the greasiest breakfast platter they have, and a milkshake and fries for him—the nervousness kicks up a notch. There are no more distractions, no other reason to delay telling him about Andre’s offer. But I can handle this. I have been through much worse than disappointing my boyfriend.

Still, I stall. “How’s work?”

Anderson sighs, his gaze drifting out one of the many enormous windows overlooking the street. In profile, he looks so worn down, and I hate that for him. “I am so tired of working for my Dad, June. It’s really getting to me. And the stuff I do with Moss … I can’t stand it.” But then his attention zips back to me. “I don’t regret that connection. Let me be clear about that. I know what it would have cost us both if I didn’t have him in my back pocket, so don’t think I regret it?—"

“It’s okay, Anderson. I know what you meant.”

Typically, the pregnant pauses in our conversations were comfortable and easy. This one is not. We’re both trying to talk about Neil Night, or as he calls it, The Green Sweater Incident, but right now, in public, we both know better than to say anything directly. We had agreed that nothing incriminating gets said publicly, so that sometimes stifles our conversation. It’s unavoidable, much like occasionally discussing Neil.

He nods and gulps down some coffee. “The thing is, I don’t see a way out, and it’s getting to me.”

I would love to give him a change of topic onto something more positive. Like that, his girlfriend got a phenomenal job offer. But he won’t see it that way, and I’m too chicken shit to say that. “Callie thinks Daniel is going to propose.”

His brow knits together, and he lets out a confused laugh. “Um, great, but that was a hell of a subject change.”

I shrug. “I didn’t know what else to say. You seem so down. I thought I’d give you some good, unrelated news.”

He smiles warmly, taking my hand in his. “Thank you for that, June. I appreciate you trying.”

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