Page 32 of Lust in Translation

“They are difficult to get started and don’t work half the time,” Leo inserts. “Ba-da-bing! Am I right?”

Juliet quirks one sculpted brow, lips straight. Adam raises both brows, horrified. “Wow. That’s a really bad joke. Is that what it’s taking these days? To get you to laugh?” Adam asks.

“It was funny,” I say, feeling sweat break across my forehead. It’s so much work. This hiding and lying. “Guess you had to be in the moment,” I say, tone lower.

“Guess so,” Adam returns.

I dry the plates in the drying rack as soon as Leo finishes and put them away. A text message from my mom chimes, and I tap back a quick reply letting her know we were entertaining and I’ll call her later. While I’m tapping out the text, Juliet rounds the corner with Coal in her hands.

“This was a bad idea. I’m sorry, friend,” she whispers, dropping a kiss on the kitten’s head. I lean over and do the same because I can’t resist the urge. “On the plus side, I think I’ve gotten a handle on everything going on here.” She waves her hand between us.

“We have a therapy session tomorrow and I think I’d rather have the flu instead.”

“They’re in Adam’s office with the door closed right now,” she says.

I let my eyes flutter closed. A relief I don’t have to pretend to be someone I’m not for at least a minute or two. “We know Adam can’t kill him,” I say.

Juliet fakes a laugh. “The other way around, sweetie. That’s what you should be worried about.” She pets Coal on the back and sets him on the ground. I scoop some food into his dish and focus on the menial task instead of the implications of what Juliet said. “Leo wants you.”

“I’m his friend,” I say, swallowing. There’s no hiding from it when someone else sees it. Attraction. My legs shake a bit as I stand and face her. “That’s all we are.”

Juliet lays her hands on my shoulders. “That man is not your friend. I see it. Adam sees it. You are the only one who doesn’t see it.”

“If Adam sees it, why the hell is he still here?”

Her eyes turn down in the corner. “You were the one who told me he’s the type of man who sees something through. Shit is rocky right now, right? Maybe he’s hoping that time proves a tincture and you’ll find your way back to him. Or…” Juliet closes her mouth.

“Or what?”

She sighs. “He’s waiting for you to jump ship. Think about it. Who the hell wants to be the bad guy? The one who left his grieving wife? Um. No thanks. He’s not stupid.”

The second scenario is more likely, unfortunately. “What do you think they’re talking about?”

“The weather,” she deadpans. “Kendall, they’re probably discussing you.”

Coal finishes his meal like a slovenly pig, and I scoop him up and quietly approach the office door. After a beat or two of not hearing anything, I pound on it twice and turn the knob. “What are you talking about? I’m not okay with being excluded. Especially if you’re talking about me.”

Adam glares. Leo smirks and breaks out into song. “You’re so vain, you probably think we’re talking without you, about you, don’t you?”

Adam’s glare eases into a smirk, and I can’t help but smile. “You’re an ass, but seriously. This is so rude. We have guests.”

Adam purses his lips. “Juliet hardly counts as a guest. Go hang out with your best friend. This is what you want, right? This friendship with Leo?” He waves a hand to Leo who is sitting in the old ratty leather chair in the corner. “We’re working on that.”

“Sure. Of course.” No. I want to be friends with Leo. Just me. He’s mine.

“Give me the kitten,” Leo extends both huge hands. “Aren’t they known to lower your blood pressure? Their purr or something?”

Shaking my head, I hand the kitten over. He spins in a circle three times and folds himself into a ball in Leo’s lap. “I think you’re right, actually.” I’m careful not to meet Leo’s eyes when I back away. “We’re going to go make cocktails,” I say. “Don’t be too long.” I back out of the room.

“Kendall,” Adam barks. I pop my head back in. “Make mine a double. And close the door.” I glare.

“Please,” Leo adds.

I do as I’m told only because Leo doesn’t seem fazed in the least about being shut in a room with my husband. Why would he? What could they possibly have to say to each other? How do men build foundations to friendships? It’s surely not how women do. Is it some weird, telepathic connection? Why would he want to lower his blood pressure if he wasn’t irritated or even pissed off at Adam? I don’t understand.

“You’re not supposed to understand,” Juliet says, reading my mind. “I’m not sure you need another drink, though.”

“Okay, Mom. Make Adam’s whiskey a double. Mine a triple.”

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