Page 68 of The Situation
He frowns. “Sorry, but I’m not really into seafood.”
“Okay. How about Caesar’s?”
“That’s fine.”
Don’t sound too excited. You could’ve picked the place if you had this many feelings over the location.
“What time?” he asks. “Let’s do it before seven. It’s so much cheaper in the evening.” He taps the side of his head. “Gotta save where you can so you can have more money for vino.”
Oh my God. Help me. Please.
I look at Jamie, regretting my decision already. She shakes her head, amused.
“Six,” I offer, trying not to cringe.If he can’t make it at six, I’ll back out.
“I think I can make six,” he says.Great.“Should we meet there?”
“Sure.”
“Awesome. I’ll see you then, Aurora. Goodbye, Jamie.”
She nods. “Bye, Curtis.”
I hold my breath and Jamie holds her broom, neither of us moving or speaking until the door closes behind him.
“What the hell was that?” I ask, slumping back into my chair.
“Did you not read my face? I was telling you to say no. And don’t lie because I know my face speaks for me.”
I hand her the bottle ofvino. “I did read your face, but I chose to ignore it. That’s apparently what I do now. I ignore every gut instinct and sign from the universe.”
My brain sorts through a plethora of things I’ve done in the past few days that I shouldn’t have because I knew better.
Converse with Tate on the plane. Staging a run-in with him at Ruma. Going to his room and letting him bend me into a pretzel. I snuck out, ignored my boss’s calls, and ate half of a pie in my hotel room with a plastic spoon. Even though it was the best damn pie I’ve ever tasted, it still made me nauseous the whole flight home. And then I agreed to work under the guy I just laid under like I have some magical ability to separate the two.
The list goes on and on.
Jamie locks the door and flips the sign around to Closed. Then she heads into the back and retrieves two wineglasses that we hide for nights we hang out and clean, organize, or work late.
“So guess what happened to me today,” I say, accepting a glass of wine from her.
“I wouldn’t know where to start.”
“Start with the wildest coincidence that you can imagine. Really let your mind wander. Be creative.”
The phrasecreative juicescomes to mind, and I wonder if this is the rest of my life.Will something happen every day to bring me back to the less than twenty-four hours I spent with Tate?
She sips her drink, wheels spinning in her head. “You’re pregnant.”
“What?No. Why would you even say that?”
“It meets the parameters. It would be wild, and a coincidence since you’ve just started being active sexually again. It’s also creative.”
I down half of the glass of wine, willing the alcohol to hit and wear down the edge of my nerves. Jamie reaches over to give me a refill.
“No, I’m not pregnant,” I say, shaking my head. “I hate you for even saying that.”
“Why?”
