Page 199 of We Can't Be Friends

I can’t help but laugh at the audacity of her statement.

“What? I’m not the one bringing an entire hotel empire into a relationship.” Turning to look at me, she strikes a pose. “These?”

“Those are ugly.”

“Dang, Chlo, okay.”

“Want me to lie to you?”

“Nope.” She removes them, folding the temples and setting them back in their display case. “The second pair looked best, didn’t they?”

I nod, moving further down the rack, uninterested and distracted.

When I woke up this morning, Cal was on the other side of the bed. Rolling over to him, I tried to put my arms around his waist, big spoon him, and he didn’t budge.

He didn’t speak much when I left to meet up with Emerson. Onlyhave funandwhen will you be back.

I can’t pinpoint what’s wrong, but I’m positive something is.

I’ve seen him focused. I’ve seen how he can block out the world for work, but he never blocked me out.

My thoughts drift, cycle back through the previous days. Dissecting. Replaying. I keep coming up empty.

What happened?

Emerson checks out, dragging me to lunch.

“Catch me up on work. How is it going trying to reestablish the partnership?”

I set down my utensils, clearing my throat with Diet Coke. “Horrible. We have an extended partnership, but Tamara closed them, not me. We’ll see if my job is still there when I return.”

“You should quit. Work with Blake or finally start coaching skating.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

“If it isn’t my third and fifth favorite ladies?”

“Third and fifth?” Beatrix asks her husband.

“You’re one, babe. Two is our daughter. Three is States, here. Fourth is my aunt, of course. Then Chloe.” George plucks a fry off my plate. “No disrespect, babe. Fifth is still top five!”

“None taken.” I smack his hand away when he tries to take another fry. “Don’t mess with my potatoes.”

“What are Mom and Dad up to today?” Emerson asks as Beatrix reads over the menu, George righting his chair.

“His aunt, such a dear, kept Sofia overnight so we could have a weekend to ourselves.”

“First one?”

“Mhmm.”

“I love being a dad, but kind of forgot how much I loved having Bea to myself. I miss those days. Welaidin bed this morning till noon. It was sick, glorious.”

My heart suddenly feels claustrophobic, ribs closing in on it.

How is it that I saw Cal this morning, live with him, and miss him?

I missed waking up this morning with one of Cal’s hands in my hair and the other on my waist. His light snores that sound more like hiccups. Morning stubble rubbing across my jaw like sandpaper.

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