Page 31 of Come Back to Me

Colt doesn’t hear her though. Neither does Zee.

They’re lost in each other, and fuck if I’m not jealous.

I mean, I’m grateful too. If anyone deserves to be loved and to love, it’s Colt, but yeah. Ouch.

My gaze drifts away from the intensely private moment and it locks on Tee.

She’s watching her best friend too. A bittersweet cast to her expression that I figure sums up how I’m also feeling.

I know she doesn’t envy her best friend. If anything, I can sense her joy whenever Colt does shit like this, and he does it with surprising frequency, but sometimes the belief that she’ll never experience it for herself takes over everything.

The urge to cup her chin, to draw my lips to her temple is so all-encompassing that I actually lean forward.

Before I can fuck this situation up any more than I already have, Colt rumbles, “We’re on PR duty. Clyde’s taking up too much room in the papers, and we’re the sacrificial lambs according to the PR department.”

I cut a look at Callan. “It was your idea, wasn’t it?”

“They’re sickening together. Of course, it was. The public loves a happily-ever-after.”

I bark out a laugh at his cynicism as Zee grumbles, “You tossed me to the wolves, Callan?”

“Please, you only have to turn those sappy eyes on one another and the photographers will plaster it far and wide. ‘Billionaire Falls in Love.’” He retches. “It’s a modern-day fairytale. As much of an asshole as Clyde is, he’ll be back in the paper shortly, but we’ll have shored up our position as against him too.”

“Oooh, you know what this means, don’t you?” Tee declares, mouth curving into a victorious smile. “You need clothes!”

“I have clothes,” Zee whines.

“Not for a photoshoot, you don’t.” She claps her hands together. “When’s the interview?”

Callan, seeing Tee will make this happen, shares the details. But even as Zee’s horror grows, Mrs. Abelman demands, “You full, boy?”

I flick a look at her and find her staring at my dish. “I had a lot of tiramisu before I came home.”

“Nonna’s tiramisu?” Zee blurts out, drawing all eyes her way.

My brows lift. “Yeah. She invited me around on Saturday night, so Tee and I won’t be here for supper, Mrs. Abelman.”

Zee gasps. “SATURDAY SUPPER? Why didn’t you tell me?!”

I guess that’s aimed at Tee, who mutters, “I tried to get him to cancel!”

“What aren’t I understanding here?” I ask wryly, ignoring her blatant lie.I did offer to cancel.

“Nonna cooks for Tee and her dad. That’s it. She leaves the chore to Angela now. Says she wasted too much of her life in the kitchen and she’s done her penance. If she’s...” Zee freezes. “Is she making her marinara sauce?”

“Apparently.”

It’s Zee’s turn to drop her cutlery on the table. “CHRISTY MACFARLANE!”

“What?” she grouches, shoulders hunching, gaze locked firmly on the carrot she’s swirling through a puddle of gravy. “I brought you a Tupperware of leftovers home! That’s my only obligation!”

Huh. Soleftoverswere what she’d been carting around in her purse. Jesus. H. Christ. I used to lug around less on maneuvers!

“Ermmm, what’s going on?” Callan inquires, as perplexed as the rest of us.

He receives no answer other than Zee’s: “Ida, Colt and I won’t be here on Saturday either.”

“I’ll warn her you’re coming.” Tee snags a bread roll and tears into it. “You’re lucky she loves you or she wouldn’t let you through the door.”

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