Page 112 of The Tryst

But I’m not completely happy.

I won’t be able to relax till we sort this out and make things right.

I fuss around my apartment unpacking but a few minutes later, my phone rings. Figuring it’s Nick calling to say something sweet, I trot over to the living room table and grab my phone. I’m about to sayso,you missed me that muchwhen I bite my tongue.

It’s David.

I feel sleazy as I answer with a too-bright, “Hey, you! How’s Cynthia? How’s everything? I can’t wait to tell you all about last ni—the auction,” I say, course-correcting mid-stream.

“Yeah, I want to hear,” he says, sounding off, but maybe he’s just exhausted. “And I have a thank you gift for you. Can I come up?”

He’s here?

I didn’t see that coming.

“Of course,” I say, but my gut instinct tells me something is wrong.

37

I DIDN’T KNOW YOU WERE FRIENDS WITH MY DAD

Layla

Once inside my apartment, my sandy-haired friend hands me a blue box wrapped with a white ribbon. Lulu’s Chocolate. They’re my favorite, and I don’t deserve them. “For extraordinary achievement in the act of…covering my ass?” he offers.

Okay, that’s good. He’s playful David after all. Maybe I was wrong when I sensed a strange vibe on the phone. His eyes look tired, so perhaps that’s it. Understandable that he’s exhausted.

My heart pounds warily. “You did not have to do that,” I say, feeling like such a jerk as I take the gift.

He shakes his head adamantly. “I wanted to, and I did. And I appreciate everything you did last night. So I just wanted to say thank you as soon as I could.”

Those words echo like a warning as I turn away from him and set down the chocolates on the kitchen counter.

David is handling situations with grace, saying thanks as soon as he can. I didn’t handle falling for his dad the same way. Or the right way. But I can’t fix that with a confession now. Nick has to tell him. Nick’s relationship with his son has to come first.

I have to tap dance my way out of more lies. Their talk will be soon. I’ll get through this awkward moment, and then David can see Nick, and we’ll deal.

I take a deep breath, then spin around, pasting on a smile. “How’s Cynthia?”

“Really good,” he says, affection in his tone. “Also, painkillers are, evidently, her new best friend. Direct quote.”

I laugh, shifting into hostess mode. “Want a water? LaCroix? Want to grab a cup of coffee?”Before your dad tells you in an hour that I sat on his face last night?

“Nah. I just wanted to hear how last night went,” he says.

“It was great,” I chirp, but he’s not listening.

His eyes stray to my window, overlooking Central Park West. He walks there slowly, stares out it a bit too long then scratches his jaw, turning back around. “Did you and my dad drive back together?”

Alarm bells ring.

I want to deny it, but if he’s asking the question, he clearly saw something. I replay the walk from the parking garage to my place. Nick and I didn’t hold hands. I don’t think we acted like lovers.

“We did. We both wanted to get back to the city,” I say evenly, then quickly I add, “I have a thing with Mia today. We’re doing some collabs.”

I hate myself a little bit more. I don’t have a thing with Mia. But I’ll definitely go to her store later on now that I’ve lied myself into a corner.

A corner for lying liars who lie.

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