Page 60 of The Tryst

I mean it. I like this Nick better than the cordial one in the elevator. At least he’s being real. I feel less weird with Real Nick than Cordial Nick. Even though I’m still hot for him.

He deals me an intense stare. “It’s hard,” he says on a sigh, then gestures from him to me.

“It’s hard for me too.” Maybe this charity planning will be easier if we just acknowledge how tough it is to be together when we can’tbe together.

“Yeah?” His voice pitches up the slightest bit.

“It is. But we could try to be friends,” I say brightly, offering that as a strategy. A damn good one if I do say so myself.

He snorts. Then the snort turns into a laugh.

“You’re not friends with women?” I ask.

“Of course I am.” His denial comes too quickly, and I must tease him about it.

“Are you though?”

“Yes,” he says, adamant.

“Name one,” I challenge.

He hedges too long, thinking too hard.

I point at him. “Ha. Called it.”

“I’m friends with women,” he says, trying again. “There’s…Eunice at work. She’s a VC.”

“Fine. A work friend,” I say, in a tone that makes it clear colleagues don’t count.

“There’s…” But he’s struggling, even when he snaps his fingers and says, “Danielle. She’s a cool bartender I was buds with when I last lived here. She and her wife are in a pickleball league.”

I sit back in the stool, laughing. “So it’s Eunice from work, and Danielle and her wife from a few years ago.”

“Yes,” he grumbles. “Do you have many guy friends?”

Ha. Who does he think he’s dealing with? “Ethan. He walked me here. We’ve been friends since—”

“—Grade school,” he says.

His recollection of the details I shared about my friend in Miami makes me feel a little warm and fuzzy for him. Which is also not entirely helpful. But I try to redirect those warm feelings toward friendship.

“David,” I add. “Obviously he’s a very good friend.”

“Yeah, too bad you didn’t mention him in Miami,” he mutters.

Ouch. “Was it? Was it too bad?”

Nick jerks his gaze toward the window, staring too long, then looks back at me, quietly admitting, “You have to know I’m glad you didn’t. Say you know it, Layla.”

Now I’m warmer. Like equator levels. “I know,” I say.

“Good. Because I have no regrets,” he adds, and why does he have to be so damn sexy that I’m aroused again?

This is going to be the hardest charity event I’ve ever planned. Must focus on my new strategy. “So, do you want to be friends with me?”

Nick seems to consider it for a beat. But in the way you consider something that’s your only choice. “We’re kind of stuck doing this. We should try,” he says, amenable.

I extend a hand. “Let’s be friends.”

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